


Paper Hearts

by mmarkcohenn



Category: Rent - Larson
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Trans, Artists, Boys In Love, Canon Gay Character, Canon Gay Relationship, Canon Jewish Character, Canon Lesbian Character, Canon Lesbian Relationship, Diabetes, Drug Abuse, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Eating Disorders, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/F, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Friendship/Love, Gay, Gay Bashing, Gay Sex, HIV/AIDS, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Jewish Character, Lesbian Character, Lesbian Character of Color, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Original Character(s), Paint Kink, Painting, Pansexual Character, Past Abuse, Past Drug Addiction, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Relationship(s), Past Sexual Abuse, PoC, Pregnancy, Pregnant Sex, Rape, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Runaway, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Sexual Abuse, Slow Burn, Smut, Substance Abuse, Teen Pregnancy, Trans, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Transgender, Unplanned Pregnancy, Verbal Abuse, alternative universe, artist roger, diabetic, poc characters, runaway mark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-03-15 12:54:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 49
Words: 73,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13613799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mmarkcohenn/pseuds/mmarkcohenn
Summary: Roger, a painter, finds himself alone in New York. Mark, a runaway, searches for his place and his calling. When Mark moves in, Roger doesn't expect to wind up falling for him. Though Mark is the one who falls first--and he falls hard. Both are keeping secrets from one another, though some secrets are more deadly than others. While they learn how they fit into each other's lives, they wind up with some awful truths and reluctant honesty.





	1. Chapter 1

           The older man rolled over on the bed and curled into his boyfriend’s chest. Barely awake, he nuzzled in, sighing happily. Though small and generally skeleton like, Mark was warm. 

“Morning,” Mark greeted and ran his fingers through Roger’s thick hair, “I know you’re up.”

“Don’t remind me,” Roger mumbled, gripping Mark’s shirt tight in his hands. “Can I _please_ sleep for a few more hours?”

“You’ve got work, and so do I,” Mark tried to sound firm in his word—both statements true. “You’ve got that big meeting too.”

Roger didn’t respond to it, and instead, wrapped his arms around Mark’s waist, making it impossible for him to move.

He smiled fondly at Roger’s feeble attempt to make him stay. Of course he wanted to stay there all day—curled up with the man he loved. There was no doubt anywhere in his mind that that would be the perfect day—but they couldn’t lose the apartment again. Not after this last time.

The boys, their legs in a tangle and their hands locked in each other’s hair, were finally living their perfect life. Roger’s past addictions now behind them for good, and Mark’s own attempts at his life were gone too. Silence spread over the room, and about a minute later, Mark mumbled, “five more minutes.”

Roger looked up at him, beaming happily as he kissed his cheeks, “I knew you’d wanna cuddle more.”

“I’m a sucker for you.” Mark laughed and shook his head, “head in the clouds, completely and utterly, always and forever, a sucker for you.”

“Is that your way of saying that you love me?” Roger asked, nuzzling back into his chest.

“So what if it was?” Mark asked, playing with Roger’s hair as he watched the older man drift off to sleep again.

“Then I’d say I love you too,” he responded, and drifted off.

Mark couldn’t sleep.

He never could once he woke up.

But he always took the opportunity to watch his boyfriend sleep like this—the soft snores and little twitches of his fingers. Mark loved it. 

The five minutes went by too quick—just like they did every morning. Roger rolled over and pressed kisses to the bottom of Mark’s jaw, making him wiggle underneath the bigger man.

“What’re you doing?” Mark asked, his hands sliding up Roger’s sides and neck, up to his hair.

“We can be three minutes late,” Roger nodded and tugged Mark’s hips up a bit—making him moan in surprise.

“B—But we—we have work, Rog…” Mark mumbled as he shuddered a bit, tilting his head back so he could continue to kiss.

“Are you saying no or are you saying yes?” Roger asked, tugging Mark’s shirt up and over his head.

“Y—Yeah.” Mark nodded and pulled Roger up, kissing him hard.

Roger smirked against his lips and pulled his hips up again, pressing kisses to his shoulders as he slowly kissed down.

“Just fuck me,” Mark whined, blushing terribly as he hid his face in his pillow.


	2. Chapter 2

           An hour later, the two were finally getting dressed. Mark eyed Roger as he buttoned up his dress shirt—the look still a bit shocking. Roger had never been one to dress up for anything—even when Mark’s aunts had gotten married, Roger showed up in a paint covered t-shirt and black jeans. But there Roger was, in a light pink button-up with a dark blue tie. 

He looked adorable.

“Are you nervous for your meeting?” Mark asked, turning his coffee mug in his hands.

“A little,” Roger confirmed, straightening his collar in the mirror that hung near the door.

“It’s gonna go great,” Mark tried to reassure him, smiling warmly. “I know it.”

For the past few years, Roger had been working on his portfolio for an artist’s society. Today was finally the day that he’d show off his work to the residents there—and if he got in, he’d get his own studio and a show space twice a year with numerous opportunities to teach classes and sell his artwork.

And if those past few years had been kind to either of them, Roger wouldn’t have been so nervous. But over the five years leading up to that day, they’d been through almost every hardship a couple and individual could’ve gone through.

“I’ll walk with you,” Mark offered, getting up as he walked over to Roger, fixing his hair a bit.

“Are you sure?” Roger asked, letting him do whatever he wanted.

“Yeah,” he smiled, nodding, “I think it’d be nice.”

“It would be,” Roger grinned and wrapped his arms around Mark, “thank you.”

“For what?” Mark laughed softly as he rested his head against Roger’s chest.

“For still being here,” Roger spoke softly as he ran his fingers through Mark’s hair. “For stopping all of that stupid shit.”

Mark closed his eyes and nuzzled into Roger’s chest, trying to fight off the memories of when they first met.


	3. Chapter 3

           Mark and Roger fell in love the way water drips from an icicle. Slowly, drip by drip, until finally, it breaks off and smashes to the ground. And there was no better way than that to describe their life together. Roger, a painter who had spent his better years in hostels and fighting the cold through his periods of homelessness. Mark, nearly five years younger had lived a coddled life, one he hadn’t been thankful for when he had it.

They met in a flurry, on an early December morning. Mark was bundled up in his coat, scarf wrapped tight over his nose and mouth, hood up, and a large backpack and duffle bag to accompany him. His fingers felt pins when he pushed the buzzer for the third-floor apartment, next to a little scrap of tape reading ‘SHIT SHOW’. He huffed quietly, shuffling his feet as he waited for the door to buzz open. But several minutes passed and nothing happened, so, Mark rang it again—glancing up at the apartment window. It was open slightly, a fine drift of smoke coming out of it.

“H—Hey!” He shouted, “Davis?”

He only knew Roger’s last name at the time, since the living situation was being set up through a friend of Roger, and a teacher of Mark.

“Ah, yes, he’s quite a fine man, Mr. Davis,” Mr. Robins had explained. “Met him when he was about fourteen at a youth shelter—he’s an inimitable artist, really, you should see some of his work.”

Trying once more, Mark shouted as loud as he could, “Davis!”

“What?” A loud shout matched his own as an ash blond head poked out of the window.

“I’m Mark? Your roommate?” He asked, rubbing his arms. “Let me in! It’s freezing out here.”

“Oh—shit, okay uh—just a sec.” Roger popped back into the apartment and returned a moment later, tossing down some keys on a silver carabiner that was covered with paint.

Mark looked at the keys—which had dropped in the snow—with awe. How could someone do that? Why couldn’t Davis just buzz him in? He grumbled as he picked up the keys and opened the door to the apartment building, which he found to be just as cold and even wetter than the outdoors.

Starting up the stairs, Mark tried to catch his breath—he’d walked from the bus station a town over to get here. It was at least a four mile walk in the freezing air. Sharp breaths in made him feel like he was being stabbed in the lung; his fingertips started to thaw as he blew hot air into his hands. He got up to the apartment in one piece, though he could swear he had frozen his body in the walk up. Looking at the key ring, Mark tried to determine which one of the many, brightly splattered keys worked in the lock. But before he could try any of them, the door opened and there stood Roger.

There were several things Mark hadn’t expected.

One, this man—Davis, as he still called him—was wearing a pair of overalls and a pastel shirt, one that had become pastel due to the sheer amount of paint that had gotten on it. Two, he was incredibly muscular. Not in a show off way, or that of someone extremely fit—but in the way that showed he worked hard. He had tattoos that peeked out and ran down his forearms, but he was covered in a fine dust as well, and—by looking past Roger, he could see that he had some wood and some machine to cut it in half. Third, his eyes were deep. A deepness that sucked Mark in, and made it so he didn’t realize that it’d been at least two minutes without either of them saying anything.

Roger grinned and chuckled, raising his eyebrows as he asked, “what?”

“You’re just—so pretty?” Mark replied breathlessly, fighting the urge to reach out and touch Roger.

It took him by surprise, pausing for a moment before he put his hand on his cheek and laughed, “well, thank you. C’mon in, it’s freezing.”

Mark watched him closely, but finally nodded and went inside, setting his bags down.

Roger noticed the shaking first—it wasn’t much, but enough to notice. Mark’s hands never stayed still. Slowly, he pulled off his jacket, looking around the loft at all the splattered paint and small, shattered window panes. Closing the door, Roger looked Mark over—noting that he wore at least three sweaters and something else that he couldn’t quite place, the sweaters barely bulked him up. Mark rubbed his hands together and scanned the apartment.

“Oh—get your ass over by the fire,” Roger gently grabbed onto one of Mark’s sweaters and dragged him over to a trashcan in the middle of Roger’s art supplies that had embers glowing in it.

Roger tossed a few pieces of broken wood into the can and added some torn canvas. He lit a match and dropped it in, starting a small fire. Smiling thankfully, Mark held his hands out near the trashcan and warmed himself up.

“Thank you,” Mark said thankfully, “so—painter?”

“Yeah, I’ve got a few applications in at some societies and museums, but nothing’s pulling yet,” Roger shrugged and wiped his forehead, getting a smudge of blue paint right above his eyebrow.

Mark smiled to himself and glanced down at the fire, “it’s hard to gain traction in New York, huh?”

“Yeah,” Roger laughed softly, then shrugged, “but that’s okay, I’m figuring it out.”

“I uh—I know of a space,” Mark glanced up at Roger, “I passed it on my way here—if we just cleaned it up a little bit, it’d be beautiful.”

Roger bit his lip and smiled a little, “I might take you up on that.”

“Which room is mine?” Mark asked after a moment, checking out Roger quickly.

“Oh—yeah, this one.” Roger picked up Mark’s bag and carried it for him to the nearest room.

It was pretty big, which Mark was surprised to find. There was a rickety bed and a shitty dresser stuck next to a desk with a dining chair. Roger set Mark’s bag down on the bed and looked around.

“Sheets are in the dresser; I’ve got more in the pantry but they’ve all got paint on them. So it’s up to you if you wanna sleep with them.” Roger ran his hand through his hair—letting it get roughed up in the most beautiful way Mark had ever seen.

“Paint is fine,” he laughed softly and nodded, “I don’t mind it.”

“Good, cause it gets _everywhere_ ,” Roger grinned in the most handsomely devilish way that he could.

“Okay,” Mark nodded and watched Roger closely, his heart skipping a few beats as he fought the urge to reach out and touch him.

“You’ve got that look again,” Roger watched Mark cautiously, “are you gonna pass out or something?”

“What?” He finally blinked, shaking his head.

“When was the last time you ate, kid?” Roger asked.

“Don’t call me kid,” Mark scoffed, “and—um…” He thought back, “like, two days ago. I’m _fine_.”

“No you’re not.” Roger shook his head, “c’mon, go sit by the fire and I’ll make you some noodles or something.”

Mark laughed in disbelief, “yeah, sure.”

“I’m not being funny, c’mon.” Roger gave his sweater another tug and Mark followed willingly—surprised that Roger was committed to taking care of him already.

Mark sat on a stool next to the trashcan, watching Roger as he heated up some water; he held his hands out to heat them up.

“How’d the windows break?” He asked once Roger looked back at him.

“That’s uh—well, let’s save that for a drunken night,” he laughed lightly, “you’re twenty-one, right?”

“No,” Mark shook his head, “eighteen.”

Roger blinked in surprise and walked over, “eighteen?”

“Yeah,” Mark bit his lip, “why?”

“You’re just a kid,” Roger shook his head, “what’re you doing here?”

“I just—I had to get out.” Mark shrugged, biting his lip. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s clearly something,” Roger shrugged as well, grabbing a paint brush.

“My parents just... Didn’t understand some things. Some very important things about me.” He huffed, shaking his head, “it’s fine.”

Roger bit his lip and watched him, playing with the brush, “okay. But if you ever wanna talk about it, I’m here.”

“Thank you,” Mark smiled a bit and watched Roger’s hands, admiring the freckles that lined his knuckles.

Following his gaze, Roger looked at his own hands, blushing quite a bit. He set the paintbrush down and returned to the kitchen, wondering what he had just gotten himself into.


	4. Chapter 4

           A few weeks had passed since Mark had moved in. And so far, things were a little awkward. Roger often found Mark staring at him, and the minute they made eye contact, Mark would start blushing and he’d look away. Roger didn’t want to read too much into it, after all, Mark was just a kid. Kids had weird behaviours sometimes.

But soon enough, Mark wasn’t home too often, he would go out early in the morning and come home late at night, trying to find a job. He had little luck though, and would come home incredibly discouraged. Roger was becoming worried about his desperate attempts to find some kind of work. Mark often came home in a frustrated fit, he’d go into his room and not say anything to Roger, or if he did, it was a quick hello and some blushing.

One night, Mark came into the apartment later than usual. Normally, Mark would make it back by at least nine, but when nine came and went, Roger felt like something was wrong. He stayed up, cleaning up his work area just to have something to do. Mark came back at about three in the morning. But he wasn’t alone.

Roger only had two lights on in the loft, one in his room and the other, a small lamp in his work space. So, it was safe to say that Roger was more than surprised to see Mark stumble into the apartment with someone else. The two were attached, hands all over each other’s bodies and lips against skin. Mark didn’t notice Roger at all, he was more occupied with the hands that were traveling down his chest to the top of his pants.

Mark laughed softly and kissed the other person as hard as he could—something was definitely up, but Roger couldn’t place it. The two stumbled together back into Mark’s room, the door slamming loudly as Mark got pushed up against it. Roger blinked in surprise—he hadn’t pegged Mark as a hook-up kind of guy. But from the sounds of it, Mark was a hook-up kind of guy.

The sounds that were coming out of his room were almost pornographic, and Roger quickly finished up what he was doing so he could go into his room and block out the noises. But quickly, the noises stopped, and there was some arguing—followed by the door opening and being slammed shut.

In his room, Mark was sitting on the floor, his head in his hands. Naked down to his boxers and a very tightly wrapped medical bandage around his chest. He started crying, covering his face with his hands as he took shaking breaths.

The slam had left a bad feeling with Roger, who went out of his own room and over to Mark’s—lightly knocking on the door.

“U—Um, just a second,” Mark scrambled to grab a shirt, throwing it on as he quickly wiped his eyes. He coughed a bit as he stood up and opened the door completely. “Yeah?”

“Your uh… Friend left in a hurry, huh?” Roger asked, “everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Mark nodded and roughed his too long hair up, “yeah he uh—he just forgot his… Wallet at the bar.”

“Oh…” Roger knew it was a load of bullshit, but wasn’t going to call Mark out on it. “I know it’s late but um, do you wanna watch a movie?” Something told him that Mark shouldn’t be alone right now.

“Um, yeah, sure.” Mark nodded, keeping his eyes down, “I’ve got a couple if you don’t have any.”

“Yeah,” Roger smiled, trying to get Mark to lighten up. “I’ve got like two movies and they’re both foreign so whatever you’ve got is fine.”

“Cool,” he smiled a little, and went back into his room to grab the movies.

Roger went over to the couch, which was mostly duct tape, mind you, and sat down. Mark came out in a large hoodie—something that drowned him. And had a few movies with him, he put one in and sat on the opposite end of the couch, playing with his hands. Looking him over, Roger noticed a few things. One, Mark was _much_ smaller than he had thought he was. Apparently, those sweaters had been bulking him up. Two, his hands were delicate, well taken care of. On that note, Mark was well groomed over all—despite his hair, which looked like he had done it himself with a Swiss Army Knife (little did Roger know that that _was_ how Mark cut his hair). Third, it had only hit him at that moment that Mark was _very_ secretive about what he did.

He only showered when Roger was away and always was wearing a large hoodie over baggy sweaters. Sometimes when he went to the bathroom he would bring a little bag that he obviously didn’t think Roger had noticed. There were a lot of weird behaviours that Mark had that Roger couldn’t explain. But right now, Roger didn’t care. He shuffled a bit and patted the spot next to him.

“C’mere, kid.” He held his arm out for Mark to come over to him.

Mark mumbled something and shuffled over to Roger, sitting stiffly next to him. Roger rolled his eyes and made it so Mark was laying down on his chest. He grabbed a blanket from the back of the couch and pulled it over them.

“You’ve been through a lot tonight,” Roger said softly, “just relax.”

It took a minute, but Mark finally relaxed into Roger, resting his head on his shoulder. He closed his eyes and took a few shaky breaths before quietly saying:

“Thank you.”

“Of course,” Roger nodded and wrapped his arms around Mark, which also kind of confused him. Mark didn’t feel like any guy Roger had cuddled with before. But he wrote it off as Mark not eating much.

After about fifteen minutes, Mark fell asleep, and soon after that, so did Roger.


	5. Chapter 5

             Mark woke up the next morning in a confused haze. His neck hurt and he didn’t know why--until he looked down and saw Roger, who was still passed out beneath him. Eyes growing wide, Mark quickly got to his feet and rushed to his room. He tried to be quiet as he closed the door, hoping not to wake Roger. The previous night was kind of a blur. Mark had gotten invited into a bar by some women because they thought he was cute, and then he ended up chatting with a guy who was about Roger’s age (who also bought Mark quite a few drinks).

             And that was only the beginning of it. Because once that guy had gotten Mark buttered up, he started getting handsy. Unfortunately, Mark didn’t look eighteen, but rather somewhere around twenty-two. So no one stopped this stranger from grinding against Mark, who was too inebriated to explain some vital details. As they stumbled back to the loft, Mark had forgotten about Roger and everything else that was troubling him. He was just looking forward to getting fucked.

             But while they were getting undressed--and this part Mark remembered quite clearly--the man noticed Mark’s makeshift binder. 

             Which was what set him off. 

             Quickly getting dressed, the man had spat some rather unkind words towards Mark and, in general, to the Transgender community. 

             There was no way to sober up quicker than getting called a ‘crossdressing lying fag’. Which is where Mark’s memories ended for the night. He tore off his hoodie--thankful to see that the medical bandages were still holding his chest down rather well. Mark pulled them off and took a few deep breaths before he re-wrapped himself up, cringing at the tightness against his ribs. 

             Once he was situated, he pulled on some fresh clothes and went out to the kitchen, getting himself some water. Roger had shifted a bit, and was close to tipping off the edge of the couch. Mark didn’t notice this until he was sitting down in one of the wooden chairs in their living room. Just before he sat down, Roger rolled himself right off the couch. Thankfully, Mark caught his upper body before it hit the ground; though it still startled Roger awake.

             “Woah,” Mark spoke lightly, his voice sounding softer and higher than usual.

             “Um… Thanks,” Roger blinked in the light as he adjusted to being awake, “you okay?”

             “Yeah, I uh--yeah.” He started to blush awfully bad as he helped Roger up to his feet.

             “Good… Good…” Roger nodded and rubbed his eyes, yawning and stretching a moment later.

             His hair was all ruffled up, and Mark couldn’t help but reach out and gently push it all back like it usually was. This brought Mark almost right up against Roger’s chest--the two of them staring into each other’s eyes as Mark slowly lowered his hand. Suddenly, it dawned on Mark that he had just touched Roger in what felt like an incredibly intimate way. He started to blush worse than he had before--his ears turning red and his eyes darting around Roger’s face as he stepped back.

             “I--uh--I’m sorry, I shouldn’t--”

             “It’s fine, Mark,” Roger laughed softly and shook his head, “if we’re talking hair, though, we’ve gotta get yours cut.”

             “What?” Mark asked, tugging lightly at his own hair self consciously.

             “You look like you cut it yourself.” Roger pointed out, gently pulling on Mark’s sideburns--that were at least an inch different in length.

             “I… Did…” Mark looked at the ground, biting his lip.

             “Oh,” Roger blinked, “well--okay. But… Here.” He shook his head and pulled Mark over to his studio area.

             Roger grabbed a stool and set it near one of the windows, then grabbed a pair of nice scissors out of a drawer in the kitchen.

             “Sit.” He instructed, patting the stool.

             Mark rolled his eyes and sat down, deciding not to fight Roger on this. Gently combing through Mark’s hair, he noticed that the base was quite curly, and that the longer hairs were becoming tightly knit curls as well. He cut a decent amount of hair off, giving Mark a proper haircut. Mark was confused as to why Roger was taking so long--but he didn’t want to question anything, not when he had a pair of scissors by his head.

             Finally, Roger came around to the front of Mark and worked on his bangs, which looked something like The Little Mermaid’s shelf bangs. He trimmed them down so they suited him better and fixed all of the out of place hairs that seemed to spiral out of Mark’s head. 

             “Okay, wait here.” Roger nodded, rushing to the bathroom only to come out with a buzzing razor.

             He tilted Mark’s head down and trimmed the hairs on the base of his neck, as well as around Mark’s ears and his sideburns. Once he was done, Roger grinned and unplugged the razor; he took Mark’s hands and lead him to the bathroom, letting Mark check himself out in the mirror.

             Mark’s eyes were wide as he looked himself over--his hair had never been nicer. He ran his fingers through the short fringe and combed through it, grinning proudly by the time he looked back at Roger.

             “See? Very handsome.” Roger nodded, crossing his arms.

             “How do you know how to do that?” Mark asked, turning to look at him.

             “I used to cut my little sister’s hair,” Roger shrugged, “or--er, brother.” 

             Mark blinked in surprise, a bit confused at the correction. “Wait, what?”

             Roger grew slightly paler and shrugged, going out to his studio to clean up Mark’s hair. “I uh--I had a little sister, who I loved a lot. And when she turned fourteen, she came out to my family as Trans. So, she became my little brother.” He shrugged again, “but uh--I’m still not used to calling her-- _ him _ , him, that.”

             “Why not?” Mark asked, trying not to blush (he felt like this was Roger coming out to say that he knew what Mark was hiding).

             “Well… He killed himself a few weeks later.” Roger admitted after pausing for a moment. “He came out and… He was  _ so _ happy. Happier than we’d ever seen her-- _ him _ . And uh, I guess something happened at school and then our dad…” He trailed off, as if he were reliving the moment right then and there. But he shook his head and quickly continued, “well--long story short, we found him in the bathtub a few days later. There was uh, a lot of blood.”

             Mark was sitting on the back of the couch, watching Roger with big, worried eyes. “What did your dad do to him?”

             Roger closed his eyes and swallowed hard, considering whether or not he should tell him. But finally, he shook his head and smiled sadly, “what do you want for breakfast?”

             “Um… Anything,” he shrugged, still watching his roommate closely.

             He nodded and tossed out Mark’s hair and went to the kitchen, washing his hands quickly before he pulled out some left over pizza from their fridge. Heating up the oven, Roger leaned against the counter, not looking at Mark the whole time.

             Knowing he’d pushed him too hard, Mark pulled back. He got up and went over to Roger, lightly touching his arm.

             “I’d love to visit your brother if you ever wanted to go see him.” Mark didn’t know if Roger’s little brother was buried, or if he had been buried at all. But the comment seemed to resonate with Roger, who smiled a little.

             “He’d like that.” Roger nodded, glancing at Mark. “Alex would like that.”

             “His name was Alex?” Mark smiled kindly, suddenly understanding that Roger had never spoken about this with anyone else.

             “Yeah,” he bit his lip and looked at the oven, “he uh--he just liked it, I guess. It fit him really well--y’know, he was born Stephanie but preferred Alex. Always did, even before he came out.”

             “So everyone just called him that?” Mark asked as he hopped up onto the counter.

             “Yeah,” Roger smiled, laughing softly, “when he was little he’d go up to people and say that his name was ‘Awex’, cause he had a hard time saying ‘L’. It was the cutest shit ever.”

             “Do you have pictures of him?” Mark laughed too, hoping that this made Roger feel better.

             “Yeah, actually,” Roger nodded and pulled out his wallet. 

             Unfolding a little scrap of paper that was inside, Roger showed Mark a picture of himself as a teenager, his arms wrapped around his little brother, who looked ecstatic to be with him. But there was something in both of their eyes that told you things were rough. Alex had a few bruises that resembled hand prints and fingers, and Roger had a slight purple ring around his eye, telling you of a bruise that had recently healed.

             “Our older brother took the picture,” Roger nodded, “our dad was out of town that weekend and we were on our way to see our mom.”

             “They were divorced?” Mark asked, taking the picture from him to get a better look at it.

             “They should’ve been,” Roger shook his head, “but no, my uh--my parents were great together. They acted kindly towards one another and to us but… My mom got sick and had to live in and out of hospitals and hospice for about eight years.” He bit his lip, his voice getting hard, “but that made my dad become an asshole.”

             “Why?” Mark asked, looking at Roger.

             “She got sick while she was pregnant with Alex,” Roger nodded, “and she was fine for a few years--y’know, just a few doctor appointments every month. Lots of medicine. But uh, that… Slowly stopped being the case.” He shrugged and played with his hands, “one day she fell down the stairs because she passed out and… She was never the same again.”

             Mark could tell he was crossing a point that was hard for Roger, so he hopped down and pulled Roger into a hug, resting his head against his chest.

             "She cracked her head open and my brother and I found her. Our dad wasn’t home so we hotwired the car when we couldn’t find her keys and uh, took her to the hospital.” Roger’s tone grew dull, “our dad blamed Alex for being the one who got her sick, even though my mom had already been sick for years before without us knowing.”

             Mark hugged Roger a bit tighter, which prompted Roger to wrap his arms around Mark.

             “So… Yeah. We were on our way to visit her and uh, well, she died later.” Roger nodded, resting his chin on Mark’s head.

             “I’m sorry, Roger,” Mark pulled back a bit and looked up at him. “You deserved better.”

             Roger shrugged and put their food in the oven, “I didn’t care what happened to me. But Alex? Yeah. I uh--my dad would beat him. Y’know? Take out his frustrations on him because he thought he was the reason my mom was sick. But my brother and I were fighters--we’d protect her as much as we could. Even if it meant we took the beatings instead.”

             Mark nodded a little and placed his hand on Roger’s chest, pressing lightly (a comfort move he learned after getting attacked a few years prior, but we’ll get to that later). Roger took a shaky breath and nodded, wrapping his hand around Mark’s wrist.

             The two met each other’s eyes, Mark knew he should say something, but he didn’t know what.

             “That’s why I’m protective of you, y’know.” Roger bit his lip, smiling sadly, “you’re kind of like him.”


	6. Chapter 6

Slowly, Mark and Roger grew more comfortable with each other. They would often hang out in the evenings now that Mark had found a good job at a local coffee shop. The two would rent movies from the library that was a few blocks away and binge classics until one in the morning. They were having a spectacular time getting to know one another, though there was still a heavy layer of mystery that hung between them. But Mark seemed happier now that he had a job, even though he preferred working on writing scripts and stories.

                 Most of the time, Roger would find Mark asleep on the couch with various scraps of paper surrounding him. He had a thick notebook jammed with post-its and bookmarks, all for a big movie he said he was writing. Sometimes Roger could hear Mark read aloud the dialogue from a scene late at night, and it always made him feel warm inside, knowing that Mark had a passion as strong as this one. It was rather sweet, after about three weeks, Roger would “go to bed” early, but really he sat by the door to listen to Mark work out his story.

                 From what he could collect, it was something like  _ Cabaret _ meets  _ Chicago _ . A showgirl who was working hard to become a star, followed by a love interest that was pretending to be a man. The two were like Bonnie and Clyde, causing trouble and narrowly escaping.

                 At least, that’s what it sounded like to him.

                 One morning, Roger had left early to go meet his brother (Mark didn’t know this though), and was headed back to the apartment. The usual window was open, and out of it came chatter--hushed, intimate chatter. Though Roger assumed it was one of the other couples who lived in the apartment. He went upstairs and quietly entered the loft--only to find a fragile girl pinning Mark to the wall, something was in her hand that was hidden from Roger’s view.

                 He froze in the doorway, watching with wide eyes.

                 “Listen, Lucas--this is apart of something bigger. This goes beyond us. We’re too far into it now to get out.” The girl said firmly, her hand gently grazing down Mark’s cheek.

                 “But Marissa, we could skip town--we could start over. Isn’t that what you wanted?” Mark said weakly, his eyes heavily lidded as he gazed at the girl.

                 “I do… But…” She paused, her head turning slightly at whatever she was holding. “But… But… Oh! But I want more than just that. I want a  _ fresh _ start. And this will follow us. It’s in all of the papers,” she didn’t sound confident when she said that.

                 “It’s um--it’s not two sentences, it’s uh… And this will follow us, it’s--it’s in all the papers.” Mark corrected, and the girl laughed softly.

                 “Okay, Mark, whatever you say. Do you wanna practice the uh…” She trailed off.

                 “Yeah,” Mark nodded, “I wanna make sure it flows with the dialogue.”

                 “Okay.” She nodded, then coughed lightly.

                 “And this  _ will _ follow us, Lucas; it’s--it’s in all the papers.” She tried again.

                 “We could run,” Mark cupped her face in his hands, “start over in a new country--you--you always wanted to go to Europe.”

                 “Would you?” She asked, her voice getting breathy.

                 “Of course,” he nodded a bit, leaning closer.

                 Then the two kissed--passionately. And Roger felt a strange twinge in his chest. He shook his head and coughed loudly, closing the door behind him.

                 Mark’s eyes flew open and he accidentally slammed his head into the girl’s. 

                 “Ow--shit,” Mark started blushing bright red.

                 “Ouch,” the girl laughed and turned around, looking at Roger. “Oh, hi,” she smiled, glancing at Mark. “This is the roommate you were telling me about?”

                 Mark looked pleading as he silently begged the girl to stay quiet, but she grinned and winked.

                 “He’s  _ so _ handsome, Mark, you didn’t do him justice.” She laughed softly and bounced over Roger, “I’m Mimi.” She held out her hand, “I work with Mark.”

                 “Oh,” Roger nodded, shaking her hand. He glanced at Mark, who was looking away from them, his face bright red.

                 “We were just working on a scene for Mark’s movie,” she nodded, then bounded back over to Mark, her arm going around his waist. “Right, love?”

                 “Yeah,” Mark blushed, glancing up at Roger with the guiltiest look on his face. 

                 “Cool,” Roger smiled, “I uh--I’ll let you two be then.”

                 He nodded a bit and headed towards his room, and when he passed by them, Mark grabbed onto Roger’s sleeve and gently pulled him back.

                 “Roger I--” He blushed terribly bad and opened his mouth to say something, but closed it and shook his head, “um--I just…”

                 Roger met his eyes, which made Mark look down.

                 “Nevermind.”

                 He stood there for a moment before he messed up Mark’s hair, smiling a bit, “you’re okay, kid. I promise.”

                 Roger went into his room and closed the door.

                 “ _ Mimi _ ,” Mark groaned the minute the door closed, “why?”

                 “Does he know?” She asked, wrapping both of her arms around him.

                 “No,” Mark shook his head, “and I plan on keeping it that way.”

                 “But you two would be  _ so _ cute.” She huffed, pouting a little.

                 “He probably thinks we’re together.” Mark sighed, running a hand through his hair, “cause that kiss was…”

                 Mimi laughed softly, “Mark, you know what else I do. Of course the kiss was gonna be like that.”

                 “Christ,” Mark laughed breathlessly, shaking his head, “if I wasn’t… I mean, if I didn’t…”

                 “I know, Mark, I know,” she smiled and kissed his cheeks.

                 “Are you doing anything tonight?” Mark asked, biting his lip.

                 “Maybe,” she fixed his hair, “why?”

                 “I need help getting clothes.” Mark nodded, “and… I don’t know what looks good.”

                 “Ask Roger,” Mimi grinned, smoothing his shirt out. “He can help.”

                 “But what if he--”

                 “He won’t.” She answered before he could ask. “I promise.”

                 “But what if he does?” Mark asked, his voice sounding scared.

                 “Then he does,” Mimi shrugged, “you really shouldn’t keep it from him, Mark.”

                 Mark stayed quiet and looked down, feeling ashamed.

                 “Hey.” Mimi said softly, lifting his chin as she changed the topic, “you’ve stopped, right?”

                 “I’m trying,” Mark mumbled, “it’s getting harder.”

                 “Do I need to tell him?” She pressed.

                 “No--no, it’ll make him just… No.” Mark shook his head.

                 “Fine.” She sighed, “but I’m checking you every day now. Okay?”

                 “Fine,” Mark mumbled, “fine.”

                 “I just want you to be healthy, love,” she smoothed his hair out, “you have to tell him sooner or later.”

                 “No, I don’t.” Mark shook his head.

                 “What if he sees?” She asked.

                 “I…” He started, “don’t know.”

                 She nodded and pulled Mark into a tight hug, rubbing his back soothingly as she held him close.

                 “Try to talk to him.”

                 “I will.” Mark replied.

                 “Thank you.”

 

                 Later that night, Mark was pacing the apartment floor, biting his lip as he waited to get the courage to talk to Roger.

                 The older man was still in his room, laying down on the bed as he tried to figure out that strange twinge he felt earlier. After quite some time, Mark knocked on Roger’s door.

                 “It’s open,” he called out, sitting up so he didn’t look so casually laid out.

                 Mark opened the door and peeked in, his ears lightly tinted red, “uh--hey. I um… I was wondering if you would come clothes shopping with me?” 

                 Roger blinked in surprise, not expecting that to be the question Mark had.

                 “Oh, well… Sure,” Roger nodded, “yeah. I actually have a friend who’s really great at shopping.”

                 “Oh,” Mark smiled, relieved that Roger wanted to come with, “well, invite them. I kinda… Only have sweaters and hoodies, and uh, spring is coming, so…”

                 “I get you,” he smiled and got up, grabbing his phone, “go get your coat on, kid, I’ll tell them to meet us.”

                 Mark was about to protest to the kid comment when Roger started talking to the person he had called, so he just rolled his eyes and went to get ready. Twenty minutes later they were standing outside of a resale shop. Just down the road were two people walking their way, one was dressed in a bright, sparkly dress, while the other had a nice and sturdy coat on.

                 “Roger!” The girl grinned as she gracefully strode over, pulling him into a tight hug.

                 “Hey Angel,” Roger laughed softly, hugging her just as tight.

                 “I’m Collins,” the man held his hand out to Mark, smiling kindly, “you’re Roger’s roommate?”

                 “Yeah,” Mark nodded and shook his hand, “Mark Cohen.”

                 “It’s great to meet you.” Collins nodded and bit his lip, glancing over at the other two, “babe, give him some room to breathe.” He laughed, grinning as he gently nudged Roger’s shoulder.

                 “We just haven’t seen you in so long,” the girl pulled back and fixed Roger’s hair, “you need a haircut, boy.”

                 “I’m growing it out a bit,” he shrugged and gestured to Mark, “this is my roommate.”

                 The girl looked over Mark and instantly knew. She grinned and hugged Mark more gently than she’d hugged Roger, “hi honey, I’m Angel.”

                 “Hi,” Mark smiled and hugged her, pulling back to wrap his arms around his middle.

                 “Let’s get you something cute!” She smiled and tugged him into the shop, letting the other two follow.

                 They looked around while Roger and Collins mostly wandered, talking about what had been going on since they last saw each other.

                 Angel had a mountain of clothes for Mark to try on, but was still picking things out while Mark followed her like a puppy. 

                 “So… He doesn’t know?” Angel asked, glancing at Mark.

                 Mark blinked and blushed lightly, “uh… Know what?”

                 Angel rolled her eyes playfully and quieted her voice, “honey, with that jawline you pass  _ very _ well. But I could tell right away.”

                 His face fell and he looked at his hands, “how’d you know?”

                 “Oh don’t worry,” she shook her head and gently pulled his chin up, “sweetheart, I may be a woman, but I’m all man under this number.” Angel grinned and spun, her dress sparkling nicely in the lights of the shop. “You didn’t do anything that made me realize it, I just knew.”

                 He looked surprised as he considered it, but smiled at Angel’s little show. “Oh--so… You’re..?”

                 “Mhm,” Angel nodded, “I left home too.” She added, “but I did it when I was twenty two and I already had an apartment in the city.”

                 “Oh,” Mark nodded, “I just emptied my dresser into my backpack and left the minute I graduated.”

                 “Y’know, I know Roger told me not to say anything, but I really do think you should go back home, honey.” She bit her lip, “the city is a lot more than you’re ready for.” Angel paused, her eyes getting big, “oh shit--that sounded awful. I just mean that I wasn’t even ready when I moved. I was still too young.”

                 Mark shrugged and picked a tie up, looking it over. “I just couldn’t take it anymore. Y’know?”

                 Angel sighed and nodded, “yeah… I do.”

                 He looked around a bit and something caught his eye, going over to a rack, Mark picked a rather ill-fitting suit coat off of it and held the tie up next to it. “What do you think of this?”

                 A bewildered look spread across Angel’s face as she walked over to him, “honey, that tie is lavender and that jacket is mustard yellow… No.”

                 Mark sighed and set the jacket back on the rack, “I thought I had it right that time…”

                 “What?” Angel asked, taking the tie to examine it.

                 “I’m kinda color blind.” Mark shrugged, sorting through the jackets, “I usually can remember which colors look like what I see but I guess I’m just… Distracted.”

                 “With what, honey?” Angel asked, smiling as she handed the tie back to Mark.

                 “Well--um…” Mark looked over at Roger, sighing softly as he tried to think of how to put it. 

                 Angel followed his gaze and then nodded, “ _ ohhhh _ .”

                 “What?” Mark blushed as he looked back at her.

                 “You like him.” She grinned, “it’s written all over your look--you really like him, huh?”

                 Mark blushed and looked down, “well… Kinda…”

                 “Don’t worry, I won’t tell him,” she smiled and gently wrapped her arm around Mark. “He likes you too. He just doesn’t know it yet.”

                 “What?” Mark asked, glancing at her.

                 “Mhm, I can tell.” Angel winked, leading Mark over to the fitting rooms.

                 “How?”

                 “I’ve known Roger for a long time,” she answered, biting her lip. “And… He acts a certain way when he likes someone.”

                 “I think I messed it up today.” Mark confessed suddenly, taking the clothes from Angel.

                 “How?” She asked, tilting her head.

                 “He saw me kiss my friend when we were running lines from my script and…”

                 “It was particularly passionate?” Angel guessed. “Don’t worry. He mentioned it. But he also mentioned that it made him feel weird. Like he was seeing something he wanted to do, weird.”

                 “Really?” Mark’s eyes grew wide.

                 “Mhm,” she smiled, “he didn’t say it like that, but I  _ know _ what he means when he says something.” 

                 Mark smiled to himself and nodded, “thank you.”

                 “Anytime, honey.”


	7. Chapter 7

 Spring grew closer just as Mark and Roger were doing the same. The two often hung out with their friends, usually at the loft. Mark fell asleep on everyone quite often, and each time, Roger would pick him up and carry him to his room. Everyone agreed that Roger loved Mark, despite his unawareness. But it was easy to see in the care that he provided that there were true feelings there for him.

 Mark couldn’t help but want to be close to Roger, everything about him drew Mark in. And the way Roger looked after him made him feel as though the feeling was mutual.

 But Mark didn’t hold his breath. He started going out on dates to distract himself from his feelings for Roger--which, everyone told him was a bad idea. If he was truly interested in Roger, he should be admitting his feelings, not hiding them.

 This was the least of his worries, though. Because while Mark had been working at the coffee shop, he met a customer who came by almost every day on her way to work. Mark knew little about her, but was determined to change that. He had invited her and her girlfriend over on a Saturday, saying that he would love to talk to the two of them.

 Mark had cleaned the apartment very nicely--he wanted to impress them. Joanne was the closest thing Mark had to a mother--which sounded weird to him, because Joanne was only twenty-five--but she cared about Mark like she was his mother.

 Roger was out for the day, giving them the privacy Mark had hoped for.

 Joanne knocked on the door and shuffled her feet, glancing at Maureen before she quietly said, “don’t make him uncomfortable.”

 “I won’t,” she rolled her eyes.

 Mark answered the door, smiling very cutely as he held it open for them, “hey Joanne.”

 “Hi Mark,” Joanne smiled kindly, “this is Maureen, my girlfriend.”

 “Hi,” Mark waved a bit, “c’mon in.”

 The two walked into the apartment and Mark closed the door.

 “Painter?” Maureen raised an eyebrow, glancing at Mark. 

 “Oh--um, my roommate.” He nodded, “he’s a really great painter.”

 “I can tell,” Joanne smiled and let go of Maureen’s hand. “So what did you wanna talk about?”

 “Um, well--I actually wanted to talk about my roommate.” He nodded, biting his lip, “I kinda need some advice.” 

 “Okay,” Joanne smiled and went over to the patchwork couch. 

 Maureen followed along, looking over the apartment closely.

 “Do you guys want anything? I can make some coffee or get you some water or something,” Mark offered, playing with his hands.

 “I’d take some water,” Maureen nodded and flashed Mark a flirty grin.

 He blushed pretty badly and nodded, “okay… Joanne?”

 “I’m alright, honey.” She smiled and sat down.

 Mark got Maureen some water and handed it over to her, then sat on the ground across from the couch.

 “So what kind of advice do you need?” Joanne asked, clasping her hands together.

 “Well, I kinda… Like Roger. A lot.” Mark nodded, biting his lip, “a lot a lot.”

 “And the issue is..?” Maureen asked, raising an eyebrow.

 Mark blushed badly and shrugged, “I think he just sees me as some dumb kid. I mean, he’s twenty-three and I’m just eighteen. I  _ just _ turned eighteen.” He mumbled, pulling his knees up to his chest.

 “Well…” Joanne thought about it, trying to decide how to help.

 “You could kiss him, see what he does,” Maureen offered, shrugging.

 “Maureen,” Joanne scolded, batting her hand lightly. “Mark’s respectful, he wouldn’t do that.”

 “It was just an idea,” Maureen shrugged, rolling her eyes.

 “I would but… I just don’t have the courage.” Mark shook his head, tapping his fingers against his chest.

 “How close are you two?” Joanne asked, shifting a bit to look at Mark more.

 “Kinda close,” Mark shrugged, “he always carries me to bed if I fall asleep out here and we once…” He blushed and smiled at his hands, “we once cuddled after a rough night.”

 Joanne smiled when she saw that, “anything else?”

 “Well… He’ll wrap his arm around me sometimes, or he’ll mess with my hair and call me handsome.” Mark offered, glancing up.

 “There you go,” she brightened up, “I think you have a pretty good chance with him, hun.”

 “I just don’t wanna mess it up. I’ve never really dated anyone before.” Mark pointed out, stretching only a little before he started cringing.

 “What was that?” Maureen asked, raising an eyebrow.

 “Nothing,” Mark shook his head, “I just uh… Walked into the counter the other day and got a bruise.”

 Maureen nodded slowly and looked at Joanne, who didn’t buy his lie one bit. 

 “Show me.” She said after a minute, crossing her arms.

 “Joanne--” Mark began to protest.

 “If it’s just a bruise you shouldn’t have any issue showing me.” She stated simply, shrugging a bit.

 Mark looked down at the ground and played with his hands, quietly muttering, “it’s not a bruise.”

 “What did you do to yourself?” Joanne asked, getting up to kneel next to Mark.

 “Nothing,” he mumbled, looking away.

 Maureen looked between the two, and decided to act and see if Mark was lying. She dove over to him, quickly straddling him as she pushed his shoulders down to the ground.

 “Hey!” Mark shouted, trying to get back up.

 “Maureen,” Joanne tugged her off of him, but before she could, Maureen tugged Mark’s shirt up a bit--revealing a few deep cuts along his stomach.

 The minute Joanne saw them, she dropped Maureen--who landed with a thud--and knelt down, gently pulling his shirt up a bit more.

 “ _ Mark _ ,” she sighed, looking up at him.

 Mark had his head turned so he wouldn’t have to look at her. He closed his eyes and took a shaky breath.

 “I’m trying to stop.”

 “You need stitches, Mark--when did you do these?” She asked, offering him a hand.

 “The other day,” he said softly, “when Roger walked in on Mimi and I kissing.”

 “Why?” Joanne sighed, staying by him.

 Mark took her hand and pulled himself up, “cause I just--I felt so dumb. I can’t believe I did that and then he walked in and…” He shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut, taking a deep breath. “If I go get stitches, they’re gonna ask how I got them. And no matter what I tell them, either I’m going inpatient or the police are getting called and I--I just can’t have that.”

 “They’re gonna get infected, Mark.” Maureen cut in, “can you just--”

 She huffed and shook her head, “do you have bandaids?”

 “Yeah,” Mark nodded.

 “You’re at least putting a fucking bandaid over that.”

 She went to the bathroom and emerged with a rather large bandage that she carefully applied over his cuts.

 “Be careful, Mark, you’re gonna get really hurt one of these days.” Joanne mumbled as she pulled him into a tight hug.

 Mark didn’t say anything, but hugged her tightly.

 “I’m gonna check on you on Monday. Okay?” She asked as she pulled away. “You have my number, so if you need anything, call me, okay?”

 He nodded and rubbed his eyes, “okay.”

 “Thank you honey,” she kissed his cheek and sighed, biting her lip. “If you don’t stop doing that, I’m going to call the police. And they’ll take you back to your parents.”

 Mark’s eyes grew wide as he looked up at Joanne, who looked firm.

 “I’ll stop--I promise.”

 “Good.”

 With that, Maureen and Joanne left. But their work there wasn’t done. With a quick search, Joanne found Roger’s phone number online, linked to a few of his paintings and info about his artwork.

 She called him.

 “Uh, hello?” Roger asked as he picked up.

 “Hi, Roger? You’re Roger Davis, right?” She asked, squeezing Maueen’s hand as they walked.

 “Yeah, who is this?” He asked.

 “I’m a friend of Mark’s, Joanne. Look… I was just with him and… I need you to do something for me.”

 

 When Joanne told Roger what Mark was doing, he couldn’t believe it--and even tried to deny it at first. But Joanne was persistent about it, saying that they saw cuts on him  _ that  _ day. Of course Roger rushed home. Only to find Mark sitting on the couch.

 “Oh--hey,” Mark blinked as he turned around to see his roommate, who was halfway between frustration and disbelief.

 Roger locked eyes with Mark and went into his studio, grabbing a cleaning wipe from a container that sat on a countertop. 

 Mark’s eyebrows furrowed together in confusion, unsure what his roommate was doing.

 He walked over to Mark and sat down on their makeshift coffee table, right in front of him. With one swipe of the little wet wipe, makeup came off of Roger’s forearm, exposing a long scar that ran from his wrist down about five inches. Mark’s eyes grew wide, he shifted a bit away, not liking where this was going.

 Roger dropped the wipe and clasped his hands together--making it so Mark could see the scar, even if he had moved away. “Your friend called me.”

 Mark sighed and shook his head, “Roger, it’s not--”

 “No.” Roger cut him off, “you don’t understand, Mark. You wanna know how I found my little brother in that tub? You wanna know how the police found me on the floor after my ex committed suicide in my fucking room? How much blood I had to get pumped into me because I was a fucking idiot who tried to die?”

 Mark’s eyes were watery as he took shaking breaths, looking away from Roger.

 “I’m not losing you to this.” He bit his lip, “I’ve lost enough people. You’re not gonna be the next grave I visit. Understand?”

 Mark nodded and wiped his eyes roughly, sniffing a bit. Roger kept watching him, breaking after a minute. He got up and sat next to Mark, tugging him onto his lap. Mark curled into Roger, nuzzling into his neck as he tried to keep calm; Roger wrapped his arms around Mark, holding onto him tightly. They stayed quiet for a bit, then Roger pulled Mark back and locked eyes with him.

 “You tell me when you feel like doing this, okay?” He asked, making sure Mark didn’t look away. “Even if I’m not here, you call me and tell me to get my ass home. I don’t care if I’m in the middle of doing something,  _ you’re _ important, Mark. More important than anything else I could be fucking doing. Got it?”

 Mark nodded and sniffed, rubbing his eyes, “okay.”

 “Good.” Roger hugged him tight again, running his hand through Mark’s short hair.

 After a moment, he asked, “does this have to do with why you left your family?”

 Mark stayed quiet, biting his lip as he thought about it.

 In his head, Mark considered why he had even started hurting himself--when and how he’d begun. It had been small at first, little knicks in his skin with a pair of manicure scissors, then it grew to anything his family wouldn’t notice--a pair of keys, a lighter--anything small enough to sneak by them. He had started after he came out to his mom--the person he thought he could trust the most. She’d rejected him pretty hard, saying a lot of things that dug down into Mark’s psyche and rooted themselves there. He thought about the days before he left, how his mom said that she should’ve thrown him out the moment he told her--or at the very least, the minute he turned eighteen. But Mark left before the latter, at a mere seventeen--fresh out of high school, he ran. 

 When his family (well, everyone but his mom), had gone to the graduation ceremony, Mark was at home, quickly packing his bags before he ran to the bus stop, which took him far, far away from his home. 

 After a moment, he nodded a little, “but that’s not why I’m doing it.”

 Roger bit his lip and sighed, letting his hands drop to Mark’s waist, “you’ll tell me someday why you left, right?”

 Mark nodded and rested his head on Roger’s shoulder, “I don’t think I can yet, though.”


	8. Chapter 8

 From then on, Roger checked Mark every day. At least, for the first few weeks. Slowly he started to trust Mark, and tapered off his checks until finally he believed that Mark would tell him if he felt like he needed to do something. It helped that Mark seemed genuinely happier now that they talked more. Roger made a point to stay home more often and spend time with his roommate, getting to know as much as he could about him. 

 And during that time, Mark’s feelings for Roger kept growing. Especially since they often times were sharing intimate details or being physically close to one another. There were times where Mark wanted to reach out and kiss Roger--especially whenever he came home to find that Roger was completely  _ covered  _ in paint. Mark always physically longed for Roger to touch him, even in the smallest ways. Sometimes if they were watching a movie, they would link pinkies--which Roger didn’t think much of, but to Mark, it meant the world. 

 Yet Mark knew he wouldn’t admit his feelings to Roger, who was completely in the dark. And despite what Mimi, Joanne, Maureen, and especially Angel said--he started going out with other people to distract himself from his feelings for Roger. Which sometimes ended okay. Most times, Mark would come home with someone and they’d sneak into his room and there would be soft giggling and moans, something that Roger was bothered by, but he easily blocked it out.

 The strange thing to Roger was that he couldn’t stop picturing what it would be like to see Mark in that situation. To have him writhing underneath him, his back arching as his hands desperately groped at the sheets. Roger would get so lost in thought with that idea that he would find himself in need of a cold shower--if you get the idea.

 But it’d been years since Roger had felt true love, and he had mostly forgotten what it felt like. So to him, it was just a silly infatuation--something that meant nothing. Just a dumb crush that would go away once he got used to seeing Mark with other people. And after a while, Roger started going out on his own dates--but he never brought them back to the apartment. He didn’t need Mark knowing that he was getting it on with some acquaintances of his.

 Not before long, though, Mark was going out with someone regularly--Roger never caught his name, because he truly didn’t want to know. Mark and his date had never been physical from what Roger could tell--he never came home with him, only coming back in a love like daze that set Roger off. Until something changed one day.

 Mark would come back from dates rather sad looking, but still as though he were set on this person being the one. He stopped talking to Roger as much as he used to, and he started hiding in his room more often. Roger missed Mark, even if he was just a room away. He didn’t want to impose and  make Mark be around him--he could tell something was going on that was emotionally taxing. But he wanted to see him more--to spend more time with him and have pleasant conversations like they’d been having just over a month ago.

 Little did Roger know that things would take a turn for the worst.

 

 It’d been about six weeks where Mark was going out with this guy--about four of Mark becoming solemn and depressed. Roger knew that the two had a date that day, and Mark seemed rather excited about it. Which was more emotion than Roger had seen from Mark in weeks. The whole day he had been getting ready, looking cuter than ever in a nice, brand new t-shirt and jeans. He wore a nice cardigan over it and his staple scarf.

 He left at about five.

 Roger became increasingly worried when ten o’ clock came and went. Usually, Mark would text him and let him know if he was going to be late. And it didn’t help that Roger had an  _ awful _ feeling about that night. He stayed up, sitting on the couch as he waited for Mark to come home.

 The door unlocked at about eleven, and Mark walked into the dimly lit apartment, not looking at Roger.

 He bounced up and smiled nervously, “hey Mark--how was your date?”

 “Fine.” He replied quickly, head hung low as he made a beeline to his room.

“Woah, woah, hey,” Roger laughed softly, “where you going, kid?”

“Don’t call me kid,” Mark responded softly, his voice barely audible.

“Well—aren’t you gonna tell me how your date was?” Roger asked kindly, that big protective shield gone at Mark’s attempt to sound tough.

“It went fine.” Mark squeezed his eyes shut and accidentally walked into the door frame, hitting his head.

That was the last thing that hurt right now, though—but it did catch him by surprise, and earned a soft cry. Mark had been walking so fast that he’d been knocked down to the ground by the hit, and he shuddered, finally feeling tears take over.

“Woah, hey,” Roger was suddenly kneeling by his side, “you just hit your head, it’s okay, kid.”

“Don’t call me kid!” Mark shouted, his voice higher than it had been a minute ago; finally looking up at Roger, who was smeared with paint like always.

Roger didn’t say a word—not yet. His eyes flitted around Mark’s face as he took in the bruises and cuts, disbelief flashing across the deep pools of mossy green. He raised his hands to pull off Mark’s jacket hood, noticing that the marks went to his neck and disappeared under his shirt.

“Go to your room. Right now.” Roger’s voice shook with fear as he got up and half jogged into their kitchen, getting all the ice packs they had, along with a few bags of ice.

Mark was taken back, hurt and confused by the sudden orders. But he picked himself up and went into his room, clutching his jacket in his hands—not wanting to show Roger what laid beneath. Half a minute later, Roger was back with the ice and plenty of Band-Aids and other first aid paraphernalia. The care shown by these simple objects overwhelmed Mark, who slapped a hand against his mouth and looked away, trying to stifle a sob that wracked his chest.

“Hey, hey, just sit,” Roger gently lead him to sit down on the bed, “c’mon, just sit and talk with me.”

Mark let Roger pull him to the bed, tears falling with silent cries. Carefully, Roger unzipped Mark’s jacket and cardigan, pulling it off and dropping it to the floor once he realized that it had spots with blood soaking through. He left Mark for a moment to grab a lamp from his painting shit—one of the better ones he used all the time. Mark’s head was still dropped, not wanting to look at his roommate. Which didn’t concern Roger right at that moment. He didn’t know what had happened and didn’t really care at this point, all that mattered was getting Mark better.

Gently tugging, Roger lifted the edges of Mark’s shirt, seeing a spot where the blood was soaking through. Mark quickly squeezed his arms against himself and looked up, his eyes wide as he stared at Roger.

“No, no, I’m fine, really—please, I’m okay,” Mark tried to get Roger to stop, but the urgency to Mark’s words set him off—there was something he was hiding.

Without regard, Roger tore Mark’s shirt in two, exposing long cuts across his sides. That wasn’t all though, because across Mark’s chest were two tightly wrapped medical bandages, that had  _ dark  _ bruises along his ribs. He stared, and Mark froze—torn between slapping his hands over his midriff or his chest. But before he could decide, Roger shook his head, tears welling in the corners of his eyes. He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it immediately.

It took a minute before Roger shook his head and softly requested, “take them off.”

“N—No, I—no, no, Roger we’re—that’s… No.” Mark tried to fight it, his hands instantly going to cover the bandages, which were smushing his breasts against his body.

Roger rolled his eyes and shook his head, “I’ve seen tits before, Mark. It doesn’t matter to me. You’re hurting your body, which happens to be pretty fucking important.”

Mark finally met Roger’s eyes, and hesitantly unwrapped the bandages, letting them fall to the floor. Mark avoided Roger’s stare as he revealed all the scars he’d given himself along his chest, the small stretch marks lined with light smooth lines. He laid back on the bed, staring at the ceiling as his hands fell to his sides.

Cautiously, Roger started to clean off the cuts that were bleeding, and replaced the shitty gauze and tape bandages Mark had put over them.

Tears spilled down the sides of Mark’s face, he felt more exposed than he ever had, despite knowing that Roger meant it when he said he didn’t care. Everything about that moment was humiliating to him. Roger swallowed hard as he gently pulled at Mark’s skin, careful to not get too close to the bruises, but close enough so that he could see the damage that had been done. Mark cringed when Roger touched him there, starting to shake.

“Please don’t touch that.” He said softly, his breaths becoming ragged.

“When did this happen?” Roger asked, going to grab a new shirt for Mark.

“A few days ago,” Mark shook his head, “I’ll feel better in a few weeks, I know it. It’s—It’s happened before.”

“Where’s your phone?” Roger helped him sit up and put the shirt on him.

“Um… In my coat pocket?” Mark shrugged, “why?”

“I’m calling your dad.” He grabbed it out and searched through Mark’s contacts.

“What?” Mark’s eyes grew wide and he quickly scrambled up, crying out in pain at the same time.

“Stay. There.” Roger gave Mark a warning look as he called Mark’s dad.

Roger left the room, Mark sat there on his bed, crying softly as he tried to figure out what to do.

The phone rang once, but someone picked up frantically, “Mary? Mary—where are you? Are you okay? Are—where the  _ hell _ are you?”

Roger blinked in surprise and shook his head, walking over to his room to grab a blood-free hoodie, “uh, it’s Roger. Mark’s roommate. And uh—it’s Mark. He’s Mark, not Mary.”

His dad sighed and nodded, “you’re right—yes,  _ Mark _ . Is uh—is he okay?”

“Depends on your definition,” Roger nodded. “I’ll explain, but—I need you to come here and take us to the hospital. Mark’s pretty hurt and—I think he needs stitches and he’s definitely broken some ribs.”

There was silence for a solid minute, then the jingle of keys and a slam of the door, “where are you guys?”

“Greenwich Village,” Roger answered as he walked back to Mark’s room. “We’re on the same road as the grocery store. 6081 is the building number.”

“Thank you,” his dad sounded so relieved as he got into his car.

“Yeah—thank you for coming to get us.” Roger nodded and helped Mark into the hoodie.

“She’s—I mean—he’s my… Son. Of course I’d come.” His dad had a difficult time with pronouns and his name, but Roger could tell he was trying. “Can I talk to him?”

“Yeah,” Roger nodded, “hold on.” Holding out the phone to Mark, he prompted him to take it, “your dad wants to talk to you.”

Mark stared at the phone for a minute before taking it, hesitating as he asked, “dad?”

“Mark, what happened?” His dad asked, “why weren’t you answering my calls? I—I was worried sick about you, honey.”

He rubbed his eyes roughly and played with the strings of Roger’s hoodie. “I just… Couldn’t risk mom knowing that you were talking to me. You know what she would’ve done.”

“Mark, your mom and I are divorced now.” His dad explained, “I filed a week before you left and I never got the chance to tell you. The girls live with me and your sister comes to see us every weekend. Y’know—your grandparents, your mother’s parent’s, don’t even agree with her. They come by and see us so often, we’ve—we’ve been looking for you everywhere, Mark.”

All of this was a shock to Mark, who sat there, confused as he listened to his dad. “So… You’re not… Mad?”

There was a sigh, “son, I’ve always known about this. When you were a kid you wanted to go to car shows and sports games, anywhere that was filled with guys. You never had any friends that were girls and—you  _ always _ told me that you wanted to be a boy.”

“I did?” Mark asked, not remembering that.

“Yes,” he nodded, “you always asked me if we could get you overalls instead of dresses and shirts with dinosaurs on them instead of fairies.” There was an airiness to his voice now, he was smiling, “and I remember when you came home in the second grade and you said you had a boyfriend. I—I’ve always known, Mark. I’m not ashamed of you.”

“You’re not?”

“No way.” His dad shook his head, “I’m proud of you, Mark. You’ve come so far.”

Mark got quiet and sniffed, rubbing his nose as he fought off tears, “thank you, dad.”

“Of course, son.” He smiled, “now—I’m about an hour away, I’ve gotta call your sister and get her to pick up the girls from the slumber party they’re at and— “

“No, no, don’t bother them, they’re having fun.” Mark shook his head, “let them be.”

“They’re gonna wanna see you,” his dad explained.

“I… Don’t think it’s good for them to see me like this.” Mark shook his head, “you’ll understand when you get here.”

His dad didn’t want to believe him, but he sighed and said, “we’ll talk about it more soon. I love you.”

Mark hesitated, “I love you too, dad.”

He hung up the phone and handed it back to Roger, suddenly looking much more tired than he had before.

Roger sat next to him on the bed and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, “who did this to you?” He finally asked.

“No one,” Mark mumbled half-heartedly, his eyes fixed on his phone.

“Mark,  _ who _ ?” Roger pressed.

“Just a guy, okay?” Mark replied quickly, shifting uncomfortably.

“What guy?”

Roger’s question was met with silence, making him have to ask again.

“What guy, Mark?”

“Just… The guy I went on the date with,” he finally answered.

That hurt.

Roger could’ve understood if it had just happened outside of the apartment or something—but even that, Mark should’ve yelled for help.

“And you didn’t call me?” Roger asked, gently making Mark look at him.

“Wait, what?” Mark shifted so he could better face his counterpart.

“Mark, I’m gonna kick his fucking  _ ass _ —you call me the next time—hell, if anything like this  _ almost _ ever happens again, you call me.” Roger scolded, shaking his head.

“Wait—you’re… You’re not mad?”

“Why would I be mad?”

“Well—cause I…” Mark’s cheeks burned like embers, “cause I’m gay? And… Trans?”

Roger rolled his eyes and sighed, “who the fuck cares, Mark? I’m Pan. I’ve had four boyfriends, six girlfriends, and three non-binaries. I’ve dated Trans, Asexual, Poly—you name it and I’ve been there.” He ran his hand gently through Mark’s hair, knowing it would help soothe him. “Who the fuck cares if you’re gay or trans? That doesn’t give anyone the right to hit you.”

Out of everything that had happened that night,  _ that _ was what made him completely break. Mark crumpled back into a ball, shaking as he muffled his cries with his arms. After a moment of contemplation, Roger gently tugged him onto his lap, wrapping his arms around Mark carefully—avoiding the bruised areas. Roger stayed quiet, realizing many things about Mark that he hadn’t considered up until this point.

He let Mark calm down, not saying a word until Mark finally relaxed and sighed, still sniffling.

“This isn’t the first time this has happened, huh?” Roger asked, shifting to look at Mark better.

It took a minute, but finally, Mark spoke, “my mom always gave me shit for it. My dad doesn’t care but my mom… She went out of her way to let me know that how I felt was wrong. That who I am is wrong.” He rubbed his eyes roughly, but looked up at Roger.

“In high school I wasn’t out until…” Mark sighed, closing his eyes for a moment, “until I told another guy that I liked him. He was gay too but—I guess he didn’t expect it? We had been friends and I told him that I was trans and he didn’t care, but once I told him that I liked him… Everything changed.” He opened his eyes and looked up at Roger, “he told everyone and before I knew it, these guys would just… I mean, okay, some didn’t care—there were a lot of people who didn’t care. But some of the guys at my school were just awful about it. And there was this one guy who—” Mark cut himself off, and looked down, trying to hide from Roger.

“Who?” Roger prompted, gently pulling Mark back to look at him.

Mark sighed and shook his head, “this guy pretended to like me. He was a basketball player who befriended me after it all happened and he just—he was  _ so _ nice to me. And one night I went to one of their games—to support him, y’know? Cause he had just admitted to wanting all of this stuff with me and—I didn’t know any better.” His face fell, “after the game he invited me to a party but… He drove us to this field a couple of miles away from my house and the whole team was there and they just—took turns beating the shit out of me.”

Roger’s eyebrows were knit together with concern; he ran his hand through Mark’s hair and was about to say something comforting when Mark surprisingly continued.

“But—that wasn’t the worst part.” Mark seemed to move closer to Roger at that point, “he uh—he… Attacked me. More than just um, more than just the beating me up way.”

He blinked in surprise, gently pulling Mark’s chin up so he could look at his eyes, “Mark, are you telling me this asshole raped you?”

Mark’s eyes didn’t focus on Roger’s, instead he looked down, avoiding Roger’s gaze. “My mom said it couldn’t happen to guys—that it only happened to girls. And since I didn’t want to be a girl it meant that it couldn’t happen to me.”

Roger couldn’t believe it, he wrapped his arms around Mark and hugged him as tight as Mark could handle. A minute passed in silence, before Mark sniffed and clutched onto Roger’s shirt, his voice cracking as he continued.

“My dad took me to the hospital but—no one there believed me.” Mark felt hot tears welling at the edges of his eyes. “They did uh—they did what they could to test to see if it had happened, y’know? And they found DNA or whatever but um… When the police went and asked him, he was with his friends and they all claimed that I had been begging for it and asking all night for him to um… Y’know.”

“What did they do?” Roger asked, keeping Mark close.

“They gave me stitches for some of the cuts I’d gotten from the guys and gave me a sling for my arm but… That was it.” Mark sighed, shaking his head.

Roger watched him for a good minute, then resumed playing with his hair. “Well… That won’t ever happen again.” He said it firmly, “not while I’m around.”

Mark looked confused, but grateful. “Thank you.”

He nodded and held Mark close, then decided to get up (carrying Mark in his arms), “let’s go get you some food.”

“What?” Mark asked, wiggling a little so Roger would let him down.

“They might make you stay at the hospital with all of… Y’know.” Roger gestured to Mark’s torso as he sat him down on the couch, “so we’re gonna get you some food before we go.”

“Oh… Okay.” Mark nodded a little, having not considered that. “Why do you know that?”

Roger opened his mouth to say something, but closed it and shook his head, “doesn’t matter.”

Mark watched him, expecting him to answer truthfully. But when he didn’t, Mark sighed and got up, rubbing his hands together. Roger grabbed his keys and lead Mark out of the apartment to the grocery store just two storefronts away from them. They had a hot bar, where Mark stood and looked more upset than he had earlier.

“I don’t know what to get.” He sighed, sounding defeated.

“Go sit down in the chairs by the window—watch for your dad. I’ll get you something.” Roger nodded and quick pulled Mark to him, giving him another hug.

Mark closed his eyes and nuzzled into Roger’s chest, gripping his shirt tightly.

When they pulled away, Mark was blushing like mad, and quickly went to sit down. Roger smiled and shook his head, grabbing a to-go container and filling it with food. A few minutes later, he came over and sat down next to Mark with their food and a big water bottle.

“I want you to drink at least half of that by the time your dad gets here.” Roger nodded, tapping it with a plastic-wrapped fork.

“Why?” Mark looked at him cautiously.

“Because I only ever see you drink coffee. So, you’re gonna drink some water.” He smiled, watching him closely.

Mark narrowed his eyes at Roger, but took the water and took a few big gulps of it.

“Thank you.” Roger rubbed Mark’s back and watched him dig into the food, seeing that he almost ate it like he’d never see food again.

Roger continued rubbing his back, noticing that Mark scooted closer to him.

Soon enough, Mark’s dad parked outside and got out, pulling out his phone to text Mark.

Roger helped Mark get up and threw away the containers. Mark stared out the window at his dad, seeming hesitant to go out there and greet him. Knowing this, Roger wrapped his arms around him and gently guided him outside.

“Uh, Mark’s dad?” Roger asked as they approached him.

“Oh, David,” he stuck his hand out and shook Roger’s hand. He looked at Mark and got teary, smiling as he held his arms out.

Mark considered it and then went and fell into his father’s arms, shaking as he cried softly.

Roger let them hold each other for a few minutes before putting his hand on Mark’s back, “we should get him to the hospital.”

“You’re right,” his dad nodded and pulled away, pressing a quick kiss to his forehead before he opened the back door of the car for him.

Mark tried to get into the car, but bending down to get in made him start crying in pain. So Roger carefully scooped him up and got into the car with Mark in his lap. Clutching to him like he would disappear, Mark nuzzled into his neck, taking shaky breaths. David got in and drove them to the ER, helping them out of the car. Since he didn’t know too much of what was going on, he mostly followed behind, watching them cautiously.

Roger explained what had happened and what it seemed like Mark needed. The nurse agreed with some of it and got them a wheelchair for Mark, who disagreed with that every step of the way.

“I’m fine, I can walk.” Mark tried to protest, “I can sit down in regular chairs.”

“We just need to keep you from moving as much as possible,” the nurse explained.

Mark sighed and looked at his hands, “okay, okay.  _ Fine _ .”

They went and sat in the waiting room, and without thinking about it, Mark held Roger’s hand. Neither of them thought anything of it—especially after everything they had been through that night. But to Mark’s dad, it was a lot. He’d never seen Mark be so affectionate or trust anyone so much, especially after everything he’d been through in high school. It made him happy to see that Mark felt comfortable with Roger—though he was worried because he didn’t know Roger at all. And he was this older stranger who his son lived with—but at least he knew he could trust Roger’s judgment, because in this crisis, he had called him. Which was the right choice to him.

Soon they were seen by a doctor, where Mark had to take his shirt off. His dad turned to give him some privacy, and Roger was about to do the same when Mark shook his head and held out his hand, still clutching the shirt to his chest.

“Can you um… hold my hand?” He asked quietly, biting his lip.

“Of course,” Roger nodded and took Mark’s hand, then held his other one out for Mark’s shirt.

He handed it over reluctantly, covering his chest with his arm.

The nurse glanced at Roger and raised an eyebrow, “boyfriend?”

“No, um—just—his roommate.” Roger nodded.

The nurse looked Mark over and gave him a look, silently asking him if he could see Mark’s chest.

“Look you’re a hospital,” Roger shook his head, “you have to call him by his preferred name and use his preferred pronouns.”

She nodded a little and typed a few things into the computer.

Their stay at the hospital was brief, Mark was given stitches and the doctor felt around his ribs and ordered that he stop wearing bandages to compress his chest. They took some x-rays and found that he had cracked a few of his ribs, and needed to stay home to heal. The biggest issue was getting them to let Mark leave without a stay at the psych hospital.

Roger had to convince them that he would watch Mark and check him daily. They made Mark agree to go to therapy and find a doctor who could prescribe him medicine to help him mentally.

Soon enough, they were back on their way to the apartment. Roger helped Mark back up into the apartment and got him settled into his bed. He made it so Mark was propped up enough to be comfortable, and had enough blankets. 

“You need some water?” Roger asked, fixing Mark’s blankets.

“Um, yes please,” he nodded, “I’m sorry--this is a lot to be asking of you.”

“It’s fine,” Roger shook his head, “stay put.”

He went and got Mark a water bottle and a few crackers too. Roger came back and set them near Mark and looked around, sighing as he tried to think of anything else that Mark might need.

“I’ll um… Why don’t you call me if you need anything?” Roger asked, biting his lip, clasping his hands together.

Roger went to walk out, but Mark quickly caught his hand, huffing a little as he tried to keep Roger close.

“Um--can you please stay?” He asked, biting his lip.

They stared at each other for a few minutes before Mark let go and looked away, blushing badly. But Roger nodded a little and smiled.

“I uh--let me go change and I’ll be right back.”

He went to his room and changed, taking a moment to think about what had happened that night. Roger saw his reflection in the mirror and couldn’t believe that he looked better than he had looked in years. Having someone else to focus on was good for him. About to leave his room, Roger suddenly remembered something. He went to his nightstand drawer and pulled out a few bottles of medicine and took one of each. 

Even if they had been living together for a while now, Mark was still unaware of the AZT Roger took every day. With that, he left to go back to Mark’s room. Crawling in bed, he stayed a fair distance away, not sure how close Mark was comfortable with getting. But it was apparent after just a minute that Mark wanted Roger to be closer. So, he scooted over a little bit and wrapped his arm around Mark carefully, pulling him close.

“Thank you,” Mark said softly, nuzzling into Roger’s side.

“Of course, kid,” Roger nodded, and played with Mark’s hair before falling asleep.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't know how much smut I wanted to put in here. I usually do a bit but it felt weird to write cause I guess this ship is more wholesome to me than I realized? Eh, anyway, I wrote a little but mostly glossed over it. Let me know if you want more or less, cause I can get really deep into it or keep it pretty PG-13.

                 A while passed without them talking about what had happened. Roger stayed home now whenever Mark was there, and often would accompany Mark when he left. That feeling of needing to protect Mark was back and more intense than ever. Though keeping an eye on his roommate didn’t interfere with his passions. Roger still painted and sent his portfolio to societies around New York. Yet, he never gained traction. Occasionally he’d get back  _ ‘we’ll consider you if we have an opening’.  _ But no definitive yes’s. 

  
  


Roger walked down the street, adjusting his bag of paints as he grabbed his keys. Once he got into the vestibule, he noticed a rather large packet sticking out of their mailbox. His heart skipped a beat and he quickly gathered all of their mail up. He rushed upstairs to the apartment and tossed his bag down, grabbing the large envelope, tearing it open. Reading it over quickly, he slowly grew disappointed. The letter said that even though they were impressed with his artwork, he was waitlisted.

He re-read the line over and over again. 

 

_ “We’re glad to say that you’ve been accepted! Currently we’re working on expanding our facility, which means it’ll take up to eight months for you to get your space. We suggest during this time that you continue working on your artwork...” _

 

Roger set the papers down and sat down on the couch, putting his head in his hands. He sighed heavily and sat back, closing his eyes. He sat there in silence, taking deep breaths as he thought about what that meant. But thinking about it just pissed him off. Roger jumped up and went to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of beer and easily opening it. He took a swig and looked around the apartment, feeling particularly frustrated that his hard work had only gotten him so far. 

He drank half the bottle as he narrowed his eyes at everything--but that all stopped when he heard the door opening. Roger stuck the bottle in a cabinet and looked at Mark, who was walking in with groceries for the two of them. 

“Could you close the door please?” Mark asked, trying his best to balance five large paper bags. 

“Oh--yeah, of course.” Roger nodded and got the door for him. He watched Mark go into the kitchen, looking him over as he started to put their food away.

“So… How was your day?” Roger asked after a moment, walking over to Mark.

“It was okay,” he shrugged a bit, “I walked past this shop and there was this  _ beautiful _ camera inside…”

The way he talked about it was different than Roger had ever seen.

“A 1937, Paillard Bolex 16 Millimeter, Roger--isn’t that amazing?” He grinned as he put away some pasta, “it was in perfect working condition and it came with so much film!” Mark turned to look at his roommate, “and the guy said if I bought it, he’d throw in the projector for $25. He said he was just trying to get rid of it and I--”

It wasn’t up until that moment that Roger realized that Mark was positively adorable when he talked about his passions. And without really thinking about it, Roger swept Mark up in his arms and kissed him.

Mark was frozen, his eyes wide as he pressed his hands against Roger’s chest. Not pushing him away necessarily, but holding him there. He gave in a moment later, relaxing into his touch and letting his eyes flutter shut. Roger kissed Mark intensely, backing him up so he was pressed against the counter. Breathing heavily, Mark tangled his hand in Roger’s hair and tugged slightly, earning a soft moan from the older man. Slowly shifting, Roger moved to kiss Mark’s cheeks, and then down his neck. At the same time, Roger pushed his hands up under Mark’s many sweaters and dragged his nails down his chest. While there was still a binder between them, it did the trick, and Mark practically melted into him.

Dragging his hand down further, he slid a few digits into Mark’s tight corduroys--making him gasp in anticipation. Mark swallowed hard and held onto Roger’s hair tighter.

“C--Can we do this in m…” Mark lost his train of thought as Roger lightly traced the top of his boxers. “My room?” 

“Mhm,” Roger hummed against Mark’s collar bone. 

Easily, Roger picked Mark up and carried him into his room, depositing him on the bed. 

“Do you have condoms?” Roger asked, helping Mark shed his clothes.

“I’ve got the implant, we don’t need--”

“ _ Do you have condoms _ ?” Roger repeated, pulling back to meet Mark’s eyes.

“Uh… No.” Mark started to blush, “do I need to go get some?”

“No, no, just--stay here. Finish getting undressed.” Roger shook his head and kissed Mark hard before going to his own room to retrieve a condom.

Even in a slightly inebriated state, Roger always kept a head on his shoulders. What Mark  _ should _ know was the last thing Roger would ever tell him. Back in his teenage years, Roger had been apart of some rather shitty and dangerous groups--groups that lead him into drug addiction. And in those years, Roger did some of the stupidest shit he ever could have. Nothing could compare to this though--because Roger regrettably decided not to tell Mark that he has HIV. But rather kept cryptically cautious.

When he came back into the other room, Mark was blushing on his bed, completely naked (besides his binder) and staring at the ceiling. Roger looked him over while shedding his clothing, showing off many tattoos that Mark had never seen before. Mark sat up a bit when he heard Roger come back in--and his eyes grew wide at the sight of Roger’s broad chest. His breath got caught in his throat as he looked his roommate up and down, admiring every muscle and line that ran right down his body.

Mark couldn’t help but feel self conscious. Because while he was thin, he was the scrawny type of thin, making him feel self conscious with his hot roommate next to him. He covered his body with a soft blanket from the end of his bed, looking away--catching a glimpse at Roger’s lower half before his eyes settled on the bookcase.

His eyes grew wide. Roger was… well hung.  _ Very _ well hung. Mark had been with several guys before but had never been with someone like Roger, who somehow seemed to be incredibly long and decently wide. A blush crept onto his cheeks and Mark tried to hide his ears in his hair to ward off Roger’s comments about how red they were.

Of course, Roger noticed all of this right away, and couldn’t help but smirk. He slid the condom on and tossed the wrapper on the nightstand. Carefully, he climbed up the bed and settled between Mark’s legs. Finally forced to look at him, Mark blushed and smiled shyly, keeping his eyes locked on Roger’s. Still smirking, Roger leaned down and kissed Mark again, much softer and sweeter this time around. His hands cupped Mark’s face and held him close, holding the kiss for a few moments before suddenly flipping Mark over so he was face-down on the mattress.

Letting out a squeak that was more embarrassing to him than anything else at that moment, Mark put his hands on top of his head, trying to smoosh his face into the comforter. Roger laughed softly and leaned down, pressing kisses to the back of his neck. His hands smoothed down Mark’s back and rested on his hips.

“You’re adorable,” Roger purred, then quickly lifted Mark’s hips up into the air.

Another squeak escaped Mark’s lips, but this time it was met with a slap to the ass rather than a compliment. Though, Mark certainly felt like in some ways, that it itself was a compliment. Roger pushed a finger into Mark, making him whine and shiver; he slowly worked with him, trying to make him as wet as possible. Mark was whimpering, begging quietly as he wiggled his hips for Roger to enter him. At this point, Mark didn’t really care how or where things happened, just so long as they happened.

Little did Roger know that Mark had wanted this since almost the moment they met. Early on, Mark had been taken aback by Roger’s beauty, and now was  _ actually _ getting to sleep with him? Mark couldn’t believe it. He whined louder--seeming to snap Roger out of the haze he was in. Finally pushing his head into Mark’s heat, the younger man wriggled his hips and shuddered, sinking back onto Roger. Both of them panted as they got used to the new sensations.

It was hardly either of their first times, but it was a whole new world for both of them. Mark reached behind him and tangled his hand in Roger’s hair, shaking a little as he pressed his back against Roger’s chest. Roger wrapped his arms around Mark’s middle and held him tight, the two holding still as they adjusted to the new feelings flooding each of their hearts. 

Roger pressed kisses to his shoulders, sighing shakily as he pulled Mark as close as possible. Neither of them moved for a few minutes, both were stuck in the thought of ‘what happens now?’

                 Finally, Mark snapped out of it and shook his head, blushing a bit as he turned to look at Roger as much as he could, “we um--we’re kinda… Too far for this to be normal ever again, huh?” He laughed lightly, smoothing out Roger’s hair.

                 “Yeah,” Roger laughed softly and nodded, “we um--we can stop though, if you want. Pretend it never happened.”

                 Mark bit his lip and considered it, then shook his head and pulled away, crawling up the bed a bit so he could turn and face Roger. “I don’t want to pretend this didn’t happen.”

                 A smile tugged at Roger’s lips and he checked Mark out, “not much has happened yet anyways.”

                 “We can fix that,” Mark grinned a little, taking Roger’s hands and gently pulling him down so he was kneeling over Mark.

                 Roger watched Mark’s eyes, suddenly understanding how Mark enticed people. While he was usually small and shy, his presence during a time like this wasn’t confident, but sweet--trusting and almost loving. His flirtatiousness was a plus too, because Roger would be damned if he said that grin didn’t do something for him. He laughed softly and kissed Mark, cupping his face in his hands.

                 Mark reached up a bit, his arms wrapping around Roger’s neck to keep him close. 

                 The two took their time, testing limits and finding how they fit together in this new way. Mark still couldn’t believe it was happening and often would place his hand against Roger’s chest to feel his heartbeat, reminding him that this was all too real and actually happening. On the other hand, Roger would occasionally pause to pull Mark into a tight hug--taking short breaks to try and make their first time together last longer. 

                 Of course, they both felt like it was too short. There was so much they had wanted to get out and talk about, but by the time they were done, both were too tired. Roger fell back on Mark’s bed with a thud, sighing softly as he closed his eyes, taking a few deep breaths. Mark shifted off of him and fell next to him, biting his lip as he shifted closer to him. After a moment, Roger got up and disappeared for a few minutes, then came back with some sweatpants on and a hoodie for Mark, who gladly took it and curled up in it. 

                 Roger climbed into bed and wrapped his arms around Mark, sighing shakily as he tugged him so his head was resting on Roger’s chest. A bit passed before Mark fell asleep, whereas Roger stayed awake, thinking hard about what had just happened.


	10. Chapter 10

                 The two started sleeping together often--actually sleeping, though. Whether they ended up asleep on the couch together or in Mark’s room, the boys would be curled up with one another--mostly Mark’s doing. Roger couldn’t face sleeping alone anymore and didn’t mind the way Mark held onto him. Mark mistook these actions for love. 

                 Which, to be fair,  _ was _ something Roger felt for Mark--though he himself hadn’t identified that quite yet. But Mark believed it to mean that Roger was just as head-in-the-clouds for him as he was for Roger. That wasn’t exactly the case yet, though. They hadn’t had sex again after that first time, neither were sure how to initiate it without that raw ‘fuck it’ start like they had had that first time. 

                 They were intimate in small ways, they’d hold hands while watching a movie or eating dinner together. Roger often combed through Mark’s thick hair and cut it for him. Mark would kiss Roger’s knuckles every time he left the house, and Roger would trace Mark’s jaw while he slept. They were incredibly intimate gestures that meant the world to them both. But that was pretty much it. They didn’t kiss again, but sometimes got close to it. Roger usually came in after Mark fell asleep, who would wiggle his way over to Roger and nuzzle into his side. 

                 One of the toughest things they were facing were Mark’s insecurities. Roger hadn’t known until they slept together that Mark slept in his binder every night and only took it off to shower. Which stopped the minute Roger gave him a stern talking-to about how he could hurt his body if he kept that up. Mark wouldn’t let Roger in the room if he was changing, even if it was just shirts (with his binder on beneath it). It was as if another barrier had come up between them despite their gentle care for each other; but Roger didn’t let it bother him. He knew Mark needed to trust him more than he did right now for things to change. 

                 Unknowingly, Roger had started painting things based off of how he felt for Mark (to him he was painting his confusion). His colors went from striking, brilliantly deep strokes to soft pastels painted in short, curly sweeps of his paintbrush. Mark had noticed the change and couldn’t help but feel responsible, especially as Roger started to paint the things around Mark--all of them having him somehow in the background. One painting featured mostly a vase of flowers that Mark had brought home one day, with Mark peeking in on the side of the artwork.

                 It was the small things like these that lead them to where they were. In an awkward, shy dance that they did every day around one another. Except one day.

 

                 Roger had gotten another letter from the society he had been accepted into, telling him that the funding had fallen through on their expansion, setting them back a few more months. Defeated, he had taken residence on the couch, sitting and watching whatever soap opera that was on (his mind was focused on other things at that moment, but the dull distraction was nice). That’s how he had spent almost all of the day, besides waking up first to make Mark a nice breakfast. 

                 But the door slammed open and Mark came in, his face red and hot with anger. He tore his coat off and threw his bag to the ground, storming over to Roger. Mark looked hurt and furious, which didn’t match his actions. Because right as he got to Roger, he climbed onto him so he was straddling his roommate, and nuzzled his face into Roger’s neck, wrapping his arms around him tightly. Blinking out of his dazed state, Roger shifted and hugged Mark--not asking questions yet. He could tell that Mark needed to get something out, but that right at that moment, all he could do was be silent.

                 After a few minutes, Mark let out a long sigh and pulled back, rubbing his eyes, which were bright red as if he’d been crying all day.

                 “What’s wrong?” Roger asked softly, gently pushing back Mark’s hair.

                 Mark opened his mouth to answer, but quickly closed it and shook his head. He kissed Roger hard, cupping his face in his hands as he pressed his chest against the older man’s. Roger’s hands fell to Mark’s hips and gave them a light squeeze, making Mark blush awfully bad. When he pulled back, Mark was biting his lip, his eyes focused on keeping his hands busy with Roger’s hair.

                 “What happened?” Roger tried again, letting him fuck around as much as he wanted.

                 “Maureen came into the shop today.” He mumbled, “and she was a bitch.”

                 “Did she say something to you?” Roger knew of Maureen, but had never met her. From what he knew, he didn’t particularly like her or like the idea of her being around Mark.

                 “Yeah.” Mark huffed, “she called me scrawny and said I’d never be half the man I want to be.”

                 Roger nodded slowly, watching Mark, “what else did she say?”

                 “She…” Mark trailed off, starting to look teary again as he busied himself with braiding a piece of Roger’s hair.

                 Gently, Roger took Mark’s hands and held them tightly, making him look at him.

                 “What did she say?” Roger asked, being as stern as he could be.

                 Mark looked down at their hands and quietly answered, “she said that you don’t actually like me. That you just keep me around cause I’m too weak to be on my own.”

                 Roger bit his lip and put Mark’s hands on his shoulders, then carefully pulled him back down and kissed him again. Keeping his hands where Roger had put them, Mark kissed him sweetly, then pulled back, groaning softly.

                 “It’s so hard to fucking breathe.” He jumped up and started towards his room when Roger grabbed his wrist.

                 “What?” Roger asked, raising an eyebrow.

                 “It’s hard to breathe,” Mark shrugged a little, “I’m gonna go change, can we have pizza again for dinner?” It was obvious that Mark was covering up his anger and frustrations of the day, as well as whatever pain he was feeling.

                 “Sure…” Roger nodded slowly and let Mark slip out of his grip. But Roger got up and followed Mark into the bedroom. 

                 “What’re you doing?” Mark asked as Roger sat on his bed and crossed his arms.

                 “Watching,” Roger shrugged, “shouldn’t be a problem, right?”

                 Mark blushed and rolled his eyes, starting to strip. He had himself positioned so Roger couldn’t see his chest, but along his side, Roger saw that the skin looked bruised. He jumped up and went over to Mark, gently turning him so he could see better. The skin was almost purple, though for the most part it was blue. 

                 “How long has this been like this?” Roger asked, glancing up at Mark’s eyes.

                 “Um… It’s still from… Y’know,” Mark shrugged, referencing the whole ordeal that happened a few weeks prior. “I thought it was just healing still.”

                 Roger nodded slowly and bit his lip, “okay…”

                 “Is it bad?” Mark asked, getting worried.

                 “It’ll be okay,” he shook his head, “let’s just uh… Okay. Either we go to Urgent Care now or we go to the doctor in a few days.”

                 “Does my dad have to come?” Mark asked, biting his lip.

                 “I guess not.” He shrugged, “which do you wanna do?”

                 “I guess the doctor in a few days.” Mark shrugged, looking up at Roger’s eyes.

                 “Okay, I’ll call and get you an appointment. But you’ve gotta promise me something,” Roger held his pinkie out.

                 Mark rolled his eyes and linked pinkies, “yeah?”

                 “No wearing your binder till after the doctor.” Roger looked at him seriously, silently saying that Mark  _ needed _ to do this.

                 He bit his lip and considered it for a few moments before nodding and sighing, “okay.”

                 “But no bra either, okay?” Roger pointed out, “just… Get someone to cover your shift until we get you in.”

                 “Okay,” Mark nodded, blushing a bit as he changed into a new shirt.

 

                 Roger had gotten Mark an appointment with a doctor fairly quickly, just because that spot on Mark’s side scared the living hell out of him. They were waiting in an exam room, Roger pacing back and forth as Mark sat in a hospital gown (the nurse had asked for him to remove his binder and shirt). 

                 “What do you think it is, Roger?” Mark asked, playing with his hands, “you’re freaking me out.”

                 “I think you’ve punctured your lung or something,” Roger laid it out straight for him, shrugging a bit as he scanned the paintings and the posters in the room. “Alex had one when he died and I just--I can’t get it out of my head.”

                 Mark nodded slowly, biting his lip as he tried not to think about the fact that he was probably really hurt. 

                 A few minutes later, a nice looking doctor came in and smiled between the two of them, “hi, I’m Dr. Martinez, I heard we’ve got some bruising going on?”

                 “Yeah,” Roger nodded, glancing at Mark who looked a little lost (this was really the first time he’d been to the doctor without one of his parents in the building at the very least). “We came in a few weeks ago after Mark got beaten up by his date and there’s still some pretty dark marks along his ribs that look like what my little brother had when he punctured his lung.” 

                 “Oh,” she nodded, “okay, well, let’s take a look then.”

                 She first listened to how Mark was breathing, her expression was less than positive as she listened. There were a few other things she tested out, and finally asked Mark to remove his shirt. Roger went over to Mark once he was down to his binder, holding out his hand.

                 “Oh, I mean all of your shirts,” the doctor clarified, and Mark blushed pretty bad.

                 “Um, well, this is my binder… Actually. I was kinda hoping to keep it on?” He asked quietly, taking Roger’s hand and squeezing it. 

                 “ _ Ohhh _ ,” she nodded, “okay, well, first things first, you can’t wear that for a few weeks. Not until your bruises are better. Okay?”

                 Mark blushed and nodded, then pulled his binder off, looking away from the doctor, who gave Roger a questioning look.

                 He shrugged a little and took Mark’s hand, squeezing it tightly to let Mark know he was there for him. A moment later, Mark squeezed his hand back and closed his eyes, sighing shakily. The doctor poked around his side, making Mark cringe quite a bit--squeezing Roger’s hand tighter.

                 “That’s hurting him,” Roger said quickly--having a hard time dealing with Mark’s pain.

                 She blinked and looked up at Mark, “is it?”

                 Mark nodded and bit his lip, glancing at Roger thankfully. 

                 Roger smiled a little and sat in a chair next to the exam table, lightly tracing Mark’s knuckles. He pressed a few light kisses along them, watching Mark closely incase he became uncomfortable again.

 

                 A few hours and a couple x-rays later, they were out and Mark was told that he couldn’t wear his binder for two weeks. They’d come back soon and give Mark a few more x-rays to determine if he was healing right, but from what they could tell so far, Mark’s rib was healing just fine, and the coloration on his side was the remains of a bruise--so thankfully, it was getting better, even  if he was in a little pain. 

                 Roger got him into bed, all tucked in and warm. He sat on the edge of the bed and smoothed Mark’s hair out, “feel better now that it’s checked out?”

                 Mark nodded and took Roger’s hand, squeezing it lightly. “Yeah. Can we go to bed?”

                 He bit his lip and played with Mark’s hair, “I’ll stay till you fall asleep, but then I’m gonna go paint some, okay?”

                 Mark looked disappointed, but nodded and nuzzled into the pillows and blankets, letting Roger continue to play with his hair. 

 

                 Roger came in late that night, and Mark woke up to find a painting of himself, asleep with his hair everywhere and his glasses askew. He was curled up tight around Roger’s hand, the light freckles painted underneath the shadow of Mark’s body. He smiled and made himself some coffee, sitting in Roger’s studio, looking over the painting--happier than ever.

                 Soon enough, Roger stumbled out of what was now considered their room and saw Mark sitting there, examining his painting. He smiled and went over to Mark, wrapping his arms around his middle from behind, and hugged him, pressing light kisses to his shoulders.

                 Mark set down his cup and turned to face Roger, smiling as he cupped his roommate’s face in his hands and reached up to kiss him.


	11. Chapter 11

                 It was Saturday--one that woke them both up slowly. Roger was awake first, finding that Mark’s back was pressed tight against his chest. He smiled and threaded his fingers through Mark’s hair, combing it through. 

                 He needed another hair cut soon.

                 Mark sighed softly and wiggled a bit, somehow shrinking in size as he wiggled down the bed to be covered by the blankets more. Roger laughed softly and pulled Mark up, pressing kisses along his shoulders, making him whine.

                 “Don’t wake me up,” Mark pouted, turning to face Roger.

                 “Oh you’re not awake yet, I can tell,” Roger laughed as Mark put his head on his chest. 

                 “Yes I am,” he yawned, nuzzling into Roger’s neck.

                 He laughed and toyed with Mark’s hair, and after a few moments, Mark’s hand trailed down to rest against his chest. This time it was Roger who wiggled, starting to blush as he realized how he and Mark were positioned (which, if you need a reference, was with one of Mark’s legs between Roger’s, and his upper body mostly laying on top of Roger’s as well). His heart skipped a bit and Roger couldn’t help but suddenly be very aware of how close Mark’s body was to his. 

                 A few minutes passed and suddenly Mark was smirking, he rested his head against Roger’s chest so his chin was almost flat against it, making it so they could look at each other. 

                 “Well that’s one way to say ‘Good Morning’.” Mark grinned, biting his lip as he smoothed his hand down Roger’s chest. 

                 Roger’s breath got caught in his throat as he blushed, laughing softly, “I um… I didn’t really expect it to uh…”

                 “Is it this?” Mark asked as he gently moved the leg between Roger’s up, his grin growing.

                 Roger suddenly nodded and groaned softly, “um--yeah, yeah--it…  _ Fuck _ .” He hissed, his eyes fluttering closed. “H--Hold on.”

                 It took him a few moments--but let’s be real, with Mark’s hand wrapped around him, it was pretty hard to think--before he opened his eyes and started to get up.

                 “Woah, hold on,” Mark laughed a little and dug around in his nightstand, pulling out a condom, “I got us covered since you were so insistent.”

                 Roger looked between it and Mark and laughed softly, “you’re… Prepared, huh?”

                 “Maybe,” Mark grinned and handed it over to him, “maybe I need your help though.” He shrugged and fell back on the bed, tugging off the boxers he slept in, and, after a moment, he pulled his shirt off too--with no binder underneath it. 

                 He blinked in surprise and looked Mark over, “are you sure?”

                 Mark nodded, blushing lightly as he covered his chest with his hands, “yeah--I um… Just… Give it a minute, okay?”

                 Roger nodded and leaned over, kissing Mark softly. Slowly, Mark moved his hands away from his chest and up into Roger’s hair, letting him pull back for a moment to get settled and ready.

  
  


                 After much longer than either of them had anticipated (Roger was particularly surprised with his own stamina), they were up and getting dressed.

                 “Um… My dad invited us over for dinner.” Mark said quickly as he found one of Roger’s shirts to wear. 

                 “Oh, when?” Roger glanced over at Mark, who shrugged in response.

                 “Whenever, I guess.”

                 “Wanna go tonight?” Roger asked, not thinking much of it.

                 “Oh--um…” Mark considered and shrugged, “I can’t think of anything else going on so… Sure. I’ll call him.”

                 “We can stop and see Alex this morning if you want,” Roger offered, tugging on his boots.

                 “Wait--really?” Mark asked, pausing what he was doing to look at Roger seriously.                 

                 “Yeah,” Roger shrugged, “we’d have to leave the state to see the rest of my family, but Alex is still here.”

                 “O… Okay.” He smiled and kissed Roger’s cheek, “yeah, okay, I’ll get ready then.” 

                 Mark got dressed in what he considered to be the nicest clothes he had, which were some khakis with  one of Roger’s many pastel colored shirts, lined with paint stains. He grabbed one of Roger’s hoodies too and pulled it on just as Roger smiled and opened the door for him.

                 “Thank you,” Mark reached up and kissed his cheek again.

                 “Y’know I’m never gonna have any clothes to wear if you keep stealing mine,” Roger laughed, fixing Mark’s hair. 

                 “Mhm,” Mark nodded as he grabbed his phone out of his coat pocket, “that’s what comes with being the taller one. Clothes-stealing.” He grinned and grabbed a piece of bread from the kitchen before returning to Roger.

                 “We’re getting you real breakfast, babe,” Roger laughed--then paused.

                 Mark’s eyes were wide, the bread half in his mouth as he looked up at Roger, who took a minute before he started talking quickly.

                 “I um--I just--y’know, I didn’t uh, really think--”

                 Before he could get a coherent sentence out, Mark had jumped up onto him and was kissing his cheeks, “babe? Really? You’re gonna call me babe and pretend it was a faulty?” He laughed as he wrapped his arms around Roger’s neck, continuing to kiss.

                 “I’m not saying it was faulty!” Roger laughed and managed to get Mark to look at him straight on, “I’m just saying I didn’t think about it.”

                 “Oh so you always think of me as your babe, huh?” Mark wiggled his eyebrows, smirking.

                 “Get your ass out the door,” Roger laughed as he set him down, “we’ve got a brother to go see.”

  
  


                 The two walked and happily chatted, Mark called his dad while Roger picked out some coffee and bagels for them, setting up dinner for later that night. As they walked, Roger decided to tell the stories he had of Alex, including when Alex and Roger and their older brother had a band--a short lived band that performed for their mom when they went to visit her. And a few times when Alex would get notes sent home about how he needed to wear the girl’s uniform. 

                 But nothing could prepare Mark for seeing Roger in front of his little brother. The closer they got the more silent he became, his smiles faltered and he stared at the ground. Mark grew silent when Roger stopped responding to questions with long answers, the two sipped their coffee in the silence.

                 The grave was small, on the edge of the yard--away from all the other headstones. Roger bit his lip and nodded a little, looking at the area around Alex’s grave, picking up a few pieces of trash left behind by people who had come before. Mark watched Roger and how he acted, staying quiet. The walk back to the trash cans was at least seven minutes, so when Roger started to walk away, Mark knew he had only a short amount of time.

                 He took a deep breath, and once Roger was far enough away, he started.

                 “Okay--I um, I normally don’t talk to graves, or--er--headstones. That’s less rude, right? Yeah. Yeah. I um, I just--I don’t normally do this. But… It’s important to me to do it.” He nodded, taking a shaky breath, “I like your brother--a lot. Like--more than like but… Somewhere less than love? I--I don’t know, I’m getting there though. And I just--you mean, or, meant, the  _ world  _ to him. And I just--I know you were a great loss to him. Fuck--this is dumb.” Mark hissed, sighing as he shook his head, then huffed.

                 “No. It’s not dumb. I don’t know what I believe but… I hope you can hear me and you can help me. There’s something that’s holding Roger back, and I just--I don’t know what it is. And I need your help breaking him out of it. I don’t know if it’s the memory of you or--or your pasts, but-- _ please _ . I need him and whatever this wall is between us, I need help getting rid of it.”

                 Mark glanced over his shoulder and noticed that Roger was walking back now, “I wish I had gotten to meet you, really. And… I hope you aren’t upset that I’m in his life now. I think we would’ve liked each other and I just--I’ll do everything I can to keep his memories of you happy. Because you wouldn’t have wanted him to remember you like he does right now. Okay? Okay.” Mark nodded and touched Alex’s headstone, smiling a bit as he stepped back and looked at Roger.

                 “What were you saying?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

                 “Nothing,” Mark smiled, shrugging, “just uh--reading the inscription on the headstones I can see from here. Thought he might like to know his neighbors.”

                 That comment made Roger smirk a bit, he shook his head and looked at Alex’s grave once more before taking Mark’s hand and tugging him away.

 

                 A few hours later they were at Mark’s dad’s house. Mark’s hands shook as he watched Roger knock on the door.

                 “Are you sure this’ll be okay?” He asked quietly, “I--I haven’t seen my sisters since…”

                 “It’ll be fine,” Roger reassured him, smiling. “I promise.”

                 Mark nodded a bit and took Roger’s hand, squeezing it tightly.

                 The door opened to a busy looking woman, who looked quite a bit like Mark, though older.

                 “Mark!” She grinned, stuffing her phone into her pocket as she pulled him into a tight hug.

                 He laughed a little and hugged her with one arm, still holding onto Roger. 

                 “Oh my god, are you okay? Where have you been--I--Dad told me in New York but that was it and I just--” She pulled back and instantly looked at where Mark was attached to Roger.

                 She blinked and looked between them, finally looking at Mark, “does Dad know? He’s gonna  _ flip _ .”

                 Mark nervously shuffled in his spot and nodded, shrugging, “y--yeah, I um… I was hoping he’d be okay with it--”

                 “Wait--wait, Mark--are you serious?” She asked, looking at him quizzically, “I mean, I just assumed, but… This is Roger, right?”

                 “Yeah..?” Mark asked, biting his lip, “so?”

                 “Dad hasn’t stopped talking about Roger,” she smiled, “he  _ loves _ Roger.”

                 “Really?” Mark’s eyes grew wide as he bit his lip, shifting uncomfortably, “cause I just um… I’ve been really nervous and--”

                 “ _ MARK! _ ” Two little girls shouted as they ran out of the house and grabbed Mark--knocking him to the ground. 

                 “Woah,” Roger blinked and offered Mark a hand, “be careful with him. I kinda like him.”

                 The girls giggled and looked at Roger, “we like him too.”

                 Mark took Roger’s hand and pulled himself up, laughing as he rubbed the back of his head with his other hand.

                 “Thank you,” he smiled and kissed Roger’s cheek, then straightened out his shirt and wrapped the girls into a tight hug. “Hey Yael, hey Ruth.”

                 “What’s New York like?” Yael asked, her eyes wide as she grinned up at her brother.

                 “What’s your house like?” Ruth added, biting her lip.

                 “Are you friends with someone famous?” Yael pushed, hopping a little.

                 “How’s your movie coming?” Ruth poked his side.

                 “Guys, guys, I’ll tell you all about it later,” Mark laughed, shaking his head, “c’mon, dad’s probably wondering where you two are if you’re not in the kitchen.” 

                 “Oh! We baked the bread grandma always makes!” Ruth grinned proudly.

                 “Matzo or challah?” Mark laughed, looking confused, “she’s never made Matzo, y’know--she gets that from a lady at temple.”

                 “She does too make it herself!” Yael protested.

                 “Sure, and with that lie I’m sure you’re eating bacon too.” Mark laughed, shaking his head, “go on in.” He gently pushed them into the house.

                 “C’mon, dad’ll wanna see you,” Cindy grabbed Roger’s hand and tugged him in, Mark following behind them.

                 “Roger, this is my sister Cindy, the two little ones are Yael and Ruth.” Mark explained.

                 “Okay,” Roger nodded, trying to take in the small house as he was rushed through it.

                 “Can we have a minute?” Mark asked, pulling Roger to a stop right outside the door.

                 “Fine,” Cindy let go and rolled her eyes, going into the kitchen alone.

                 Mark sighed and rested his head on Roger’s chest, taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry, I know the twins are a lot.” 

                 “Yes they are,” Roger laughed softly, shrugging a bit, “but that’s okay. I can handle that.”

                 “You sure?” Mark bit his lip, looking up at him.

                 “Yeah,” Roger nodded, smiling, “I have a few nieces.”

                 “Sorry for not telling you that I’m Jewish,” Mark shook his head, “I just--”

                 “It doesn’t matter, Mark,” Roger laughed softly, shrugging, “I don’t care.”

                 “Really?” Mark asked him as if it had been an issue before.

                 “Yeah,” Roger nodded, worried about how seriously he took that. 

                 “Okay…” Mark sighed a little, reaching up and kissing Roger quickly.

                 He tugged Roger into the kitchen where David was cooking with Yael and Ruth right behind him, helping him out.

                 “Hey dad,” Mark smiled, holding Roger’s hand tightly.

                 “Mark,” he smiled, looking over at the two of them, “Roger! It’s good to see you two boys.”

                 Mark smiled and squeezed Roger’s hand, “what’re you making for dinner?”

                 “Brisket, and some challah your sisters made. They’re trying to beat their grandma and make theirs tastier than hers.” He laughed lightly.

                 “Good luck,” Mark smirked, shaking his head, “it’ll take forever.”

                 “We can do it!” Yael grinned, going over to him and wrapping him in a tight hug, “I know we can.”

                 “Sure, sure,” he laughed softly, hugging her back.

                 “Roger, how’s your artwork coming?” David asked, glancing over at him as he cut up some vegetables.

                 “Good,” Roger smiled, nodding, “I uh, I kinda got an offer for my artwork to be put on display with some artists I really look up to now.”

                 “Really?” He smiled, “that’s great! Y’know, I was talking to someone at temple who was looking for a new art teacher for the kids’ summer program!”

                 “Oh yeah?” Roger asked, biting his lip.

                 “Oh, Roger, you don’t have to--” Mark shook his head.

                 “No, no, I’d actually be really interested in that.” Roger smiled, “I’ve uh, kinda been wondering about being an art teacher. I mean, I’ve already got the art degrees, I just need the certification.”

                 “They’ll work with you on that,” David smiled, “Cindy, watch the food?”

                 “Sure dad,” she smiled and went over to where he was standing, letting their dad go to grab Roger by the elbow and drag him off somewhere into the house.

                 Mark sighed and watched his dad drag him off.

                 Once they were out of the room, Cindy looked over at Mark and grinned, “so--he’s pretty hot.”

                 Mark blushed and sat at the dinner table, “I mean… Yeah.”

                 “How’d you get him?” She bit her lip and finished cutting up the vegetables her dad had been working on a moment before. 

                 “Well, he’s my roommate,” Mark shrugged, “and we just kinda…” He trailed off and glanced over at Yael and Ruth, “go to your room, you’re too young to hear this stuff.”

                 “ _ Ugh, _ ” they groaned, but listened and ran upstairs.

                 Mark got up and went over to Cindy, “so… I don’t know if dad told you but I uh, I got beat up like… Almost two months ago. But Roger took me to the hospital and called dad and yeah--so--yeah.”

                 “Yeah, he told me about it,” Cindy shrugged, “I got pretty heated.”

                 “So did Roger,” Mark laughed softly, “but um… We started sleeping in the same room and then one day we just… I don’t know, just jumped on each other and…” He blushed, waving his hands around a little.

                 “Oooo,” she grinned, “so you guys do it a lot, huh? Better than me and Greg…” Cindy mumbled, shaking her head.

                 “Um, no, actually. Today was the second time we ever did that together.” Mark shrugged, playing with his hands.

                 “Woah--what?” Cindy blinked and looked at him, “uh--really?”

                 “Yeah,” Mark nodded, “I wasn’t really… Comfortable, I guess.” 

                 “Huh,” she thought about it, “so… you’re not dating?”

                 “I can’t really tell,” he shrugged, biting his lip, “we kiss and hold hands and I uh, I went to see his little brother today and… Yeah.”

                 “How… Was he?” Cindy asked, not sure what to make of that.

                 “Dead,” Mark shrugged, “very, very dead.”

                 “Oh,” she blinked, “uh…”

                 “He’s told me about him before, but um, he killed himself and he was trans too and yeah, I just… I don’t know.” Mark shrugged, biting his lip, “it was really sweet, actually.”

                 Cindy nodded slowly and watched him, “dad said he was an artist?” 

                 “Yeah, a really great painter,” Mark smiled proudly, nodding, “like--amazing.”

                 “Do you have any pictures?” She asked.

                 “Yeah,” he nodded and grabbed his phone, showing Cindy some of the pictures he’d taken of Roger’s paintings.

                 “Oh wow,” she nodded, smiling, “he’s really good.”

                 “Yeah,” Mark smiled, biting his lip, “so… How’re you and Greg?”

                 Cindy rolled her eyes and shook her head, “Mark, I wanna know about you and this mysterious artist boy--not me and my fiance.”

                 Mark laughed softly and shrugged, “I mean, not much interesting has happened. We’ve slept together and we don’t know a lot about each other.”

                 “You should fix that,” she shrugged, “I mean, he really needs to know more about you, Mark.” 

                 “And me, him,” Mark nodded, sighing, “yeah, yeah, I know.”

                 Cindy was quiet and watched him, finally asking, “why’d you run away?”

                 Mark played with his hands, biting his lip.

                 “You scared the shit out of us, Mark. You don’t get to just run away when things are hard.” She pointed out.

                 “I know, Cindy.” Mark huffed, cutting her off. “I know.”

                 “So… Promise?” She asked, “promise you won’t run away again?”

                 “I promise,” he nodded, “I swear, okay? I know it was shitty to do and I didn’t think I would ever do it but--I--I gotta say, it’s brought me some of the best people I’ve ever known and some of the situations… I wouldn’t have gotten these if I had stayed with mom. If I kept putting up with her bullshit, Cindy. You know what would have happened?” Mark asked, looking at her straight-on.

                 She didn’t respond. She knew the answer.

                 “I would’ve killed myself.”

                 Cindy sighed softly, nodding a bit, “I know, honey. I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Two things, one, I felt different while writing the beginning of this chapter, I just felt really good and positive and I hope that's reflected. Second, I'm in the process of converting to Judaism so sorry if there's a lot of specific stuff about being Jewish in this fic? Lol, I just uh, I'm trying really hard to learn everything so I can start my year of conversion. I'm also in the early process of becoming kosher so that's entertaining, expect some really specific recipes to be brought up!


	12. Chapter 12

                 The rest of the night had gone by in a flash, Yael and Ruth absolutely  _ loved _ Roger, and spent the whole night quizzing him on his life. Daniel praised Roger’s art and talked proudly of him, as if he was his own son. Mark sat back and watched his family interact with the person he really, really liked. 

                 Things settled down again, the two lived happily together and things were simple.

                 Mark was walking home from work a few weeks later, purposely walking past the camera shop where he saw his favorite camera every day. On the way into work he’d seen it, but now as he passed by, he noticed it was gone. Mark blinked in surprise and went into the shop, searching high and low for the old camera.

                 “Can I help you find anything?” A young lady asked Mark, who seemed frantic.

                 “You guys had an old camera--a 1937 Paillard,” Mark explained.

                 “Oh, someone came in and bought it today,” she nodded, “I’m sorry, were you interested in it?”

                 Mark shuffled in his spot and shrugged, looking at his hands, “I don’t know, I guess it was kinda a long shot--it’s not like I’d do much with it anyways.” He sighed and looked back up at the girl, “thank you anyways.”

                 Solemnly, he walked back to the apartment, where Roger waited with a surprise. He’d spent the day cleaning most of the apartment, knowing it made Mark feel better to see the place cleaned up. And he’d even made dinner early so it was ready whenever they wanted it. But most importantly, Roger had gotten Mark a surprise. He’d heard Mark talk about that camera for a while now, and he finally decided that it was about time Mark got something he wanted.

                 Shuffling into the apartment, Mark kept his head down, sighing softly as he started to tug off his jacket. Roger went over and pulled his head up, smiling cutely as he kissed the corners of Mark’s mouth, making them tug up a bit in appreciation.

                 “Well hi to you too,” Mark bit his lip, gently wiping off a bit of paint that Roger had gotten on his cheek.

                 “How was your day?” Roger asked, his eyes seemed to sparkle as he waited to tell Mark about the surprise he had in store.

                 “It was okay,” Mark shrugged and hung up his coat, along with his scarf, “someone got that camera I was gonna get.”

                 “Oh?” Roger grinned a little, his hands dropping to play with the bottom edge of Mark’s shirt.

                 “What’s that grin for?” Mark raised an eyebrow as he watched Roger closely, biting his lip as he cautiously took Roger’s hands.

                 “I got you a surprise,” he shrugged a bit and squeezed Mark’s hands.

                 “What kind of surprise?” Mark asked, shifting to be closer to him.

                 “Close your eyes,” Roger bit his lip, trying to stop himself from just blurting it out.

                 “Okay…” Mark was hesitant as he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he gripped Roger a little tighter.

                 Carefully, Roger lead Mark over to the couch and made him sit down. He rushed to his room and grabbed the camera, which came in a light brown leather bag. He set the bag down and unzipped it, taking the camera out carefully to hand it to Mark.

                 “Okay, open.” Roger grinned, clasping his hands together as Mark opened his eyes.

                 He went from confusion to excitement all in a few seconds, the smile on his face was worth more to Roger than anything ever had before. Mark set it down and jumped up, wrapping his arms around Roger’s neck, he hugged him tightly.

                 “Thank you--oh my god--holy-- _ shit _ \--I just…” He pulled back a bit, grinning as he watched Roger’s eyes, “fuck--thank you, Roger.”

                 “Of course,” Roger wrapped his arms around Mark’s middle and smiled, pulling him tight against his chest. “Anything for you.”

                 Mark blushed terribly and nuzzled into Roger’s neck, smiling like a dork as he hugged the older man tightly. 

                 “You’re amazing,” Mark said after a few moments, finally pulling back now that his blushing had diminished. 

                 Roger shrugged and kissed Mark’s cheek, “I just thought you deserved something good.”

                 Mark grinned and kissed him, gripping his shirt tightly in his hands. They held it for a moment, and when Mark pulled back, he continued.

                 “I think I--” He paused, realizing that he almost admitted some major feelings to Roger. Even though he felt that way, he decided to go a different route, “I’m so lucky to have you.”

                 “Have me, huh?” Roger grinned, biting his lip, “so we’re… together?”

                 “Do you want to be?” Mark asked, his hands starting to shake a little.

                 “Yeah,” he smiled and took Mark’s hands, kissing along his knuckles lightly. “I do.”

                 Mark’s heart thudded louder in his chest at that, and he grinned, reaching up to mess with Roger’s hair, “it’s a bit early to be saying that, huh?”

                 Roger blushed a bit and laughed, shrugging, “who knows, it might be sooner than we think.”

                 Starting to blush again, Mark laughed too and kissed him, grinning against his lips as he pulled at Roger’s hair playfully.

                 Deciding to go with it, Roger purposely moaned against Mark’s lips, just to make him hot and bothered.

                 Which worked better than expected.

                 Mark pushed his hands up under Roger’s shirt, pressing his palms into the artist’s chest, his nails dragging down as he fought back. Roger shuddered and pulled back for a moment, pausing to look at Mark with heavily-lidded eyes. Smirking, Mark started to walk to his room, tugging his shirt off along the way.

                 Roger grinned and followed, closing the door behind them.

  
  


                 As the two lay in bed, Roger lightly traced shapes along Mark’s side, where he had no more bruises from binding. Roger couldn’t tell if it was bonier or if it was just his imagination, he could definitely feel Mark’s ribs--but could he feel those before? Maybe it’s just the way they were lying there. Maybe he could’ve felt those before if he were paying attention. 

                 Mark hummed happily, sighing softly as his eyes followed the dark lines of Roger’s tattoos. 

                 In the midst of the silence, Mark’s stomach growled loudly, making him blush badly.

                 “Let’s get some dinner in you,” Roger looked over at him, his fingertips pausing against a rib.

                 “Oh. Sure,” he nodded and sat up, stealing Roger’s t-shirt.

                 Roger got up and went to warm up their dinner, and as he thought about it, he grabbed out a new bottle of water for Mark. They usually reused theirs, but it had been a while since Roger had seen Mark’s, and was going to make sure Mark drank some of a new one tonight. Finally joining him, Mark came out with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, it was keeping him warm.

                 Then, a thought hit Roger.

                 On Mark’s first day in the apartment, he mentioned that he hadn’t eaten in two days. And he’d seemed fine. Without really thinking, Roger had to ask.

                 “How often do you eat?”

                 “Um…” Mark blushed and shrugged, “I don’t know, whenever you make food, I guess.”

                 “So.. Sometimes twice a day?” Roger clarified.

                 “Yeah,” he nodded, shrugging, “so?”

                 “We need to make sure you eat breakfast,” he shook his head, “or drink something substantial.”

                 “I’m fine,” Mark shook his head, “I promise.”

                 “Do you get dizzy at work?” Roger asked, raising an eyebrow.

                 Mark hesitated, tugging his blanket closer to him, “look, I’m a lot better than I used to be.”

                 “Used to be?” Roger prompted.

                 “I used to purge everything,” Mark shrugged, “I’d eat maybe half a sandwich every day. That and some pickles or like… String cheese, I guess.”

                 “So… Stuff that didn’t have a lot of calories.” Roger put two and two together.

                 “Yeah,” Mark nodded, “at least I actually eat one meal a day now.”

                 “Have you seen a doctor about this?” Roger bit his lip as he pulled out their dinners.

                 “Yeah,” he shrugged, “she wasn’t much of a help. I never like--got professional counseling for it. One day I was just at the doctor and they started asking me questions about my eating habits and determined I have an eating disorder. It’s really not that big of a deal, Roger.”

                 “It is to me,” Roger mumbled softly, sliding the water bottle Mark’s direction.

                 “Why?” Mark asked, “it’s not like--”

                 “I care about you, Mark,” Roger cut in. “A lot. And it hurts to see you not taking care of yourself.”

                 The two stared at each other for a long time, neither saying a word. Mark searched Roger’s eyes, trying to see if he was holding anything back. Roger was being plain and straightforward with Mark, he was being as honest as he could be. He had a hard time accepting that Roger really did care, but after a moment, he reached over and took Roger’s hand, finally speaking up.

                 “I’ll work on it.” He sighed, “I’ll… Start going to therapy or something.”

                 “Thank you,” Roger nodded and kissed his knuckles, down to the inside of his wrist.

                 Mark nodded and started to eat, focusing on his plate for the most part.

                 After five minutes of silence, he lightly traced Roger’s scar along his forearm--something he had stopped covering with makeup. Roger didn’t think much of it, he didn’t even realize that Mark was doing it if he was being honest. But something about it hooked Mark in, he was curious.

                 “You said you had found your ex in your room.” Mark spoke suddenly, “what… What did you mean?”

                 Roger looked up at Mark and blinked, his eyes flickering to his wrist and back up. “Um--she uh, she had hung herself.” Roger nodded, “that’s why I took the fan out.”

                 “Oh,” Mark nodded, eyes still fixed on the scar.

                 “And I um… Well, we had been dating for a while and we did the stupidest shit together--I mean, awful,  _ awful _ things together and we just… We were kids. We didn’t know better,” Roger shrugged, reliving it all. “And we didn’t really have anyone else at the time so we just… Helped each other go down the wrong paths. She uh--she ended up killing herself a--” Roger quickly stopped himself, “she just--uh, killed herself one day. Wrote me a letter, left it on the counter here and… Yeah.”

                 He didn’t say anything for a moment, but finally shrugged and shook his head, “and I guess I uh--well, I don’t really remember it too well but I was supposed to see my friends later that night and I had grabbed a razor and just…” Roger’s eyes fell to his wrist, “and my fri--Collins, Collins and Angel, actually, came into the apartment and called the police.”

                 “Oh.” Mark bit his lip, writing a mental note to thank them later.

                 “I had to be in the hospital for almost a month with my stunt.” Roger shrugged, “mostly because I kept pulling shit. I’d steal scissors from the art supplies and break the plastic forks and spoons they gave us. Y’know, really used anything they could’ve given us to hurt myself.”

                 Mark nodded slowly, thinking it through, “oh…”

                 Roger nodded and shrugged, continuing to eat, “it’s fine, Mark. I promise. I’m better now.”

                 “Is that why you call me kid?” Mark asked, realizing a few things about Roger’s behaviour up until this point.

                 He sighed softly and nodded, “a little bit, yeah.”

                 “I’m not like that though, Roger,” Mark tried to point out.

                 “Yes you are,” he nodded, “you hurt yourself over little reasons that don’t really matter. Losing my ex was… Big. Yes, but trying to kill myself wasn’t worth it.”

                 Mark ate his food and kept his eyes down, not saying anything.

                 “Just… We’re gonna work on you getting better, okay? I know you’re dealing with a lot because of what’s happened with your family but… You need to learn how to articulate your feelings and express them in a good way. Okay?” Roger asked, taking Mark’s hand again.

                 “Okay,” he nodded and bit his lip, “but… We’ve gotta be real with each other. About everything, okay? I just--I know we’re both dealing with a lot but we’ve gotta be honest and real. Can we do that?”

                 “Yeah,” Roger smiled and fixed Mark’s hair, “of course.”

                 “Can… We start tonight?” Mark asked softly, “I can start if you want.”

                 “Sure,” he nodded and shrugged, “do you wanna do it now?”

                 “Yeah,” Mark nodded too and thought about it for a few moments before he started. “So… When I was little, I didn’t really like… Being a girl. Y’know? I uh, I just preferred to be with my dad and with guys who weren’t doing things like playing with dolls or dressing up--well, wait, I actually did like dressing up. But I dressed up as a firefighter, or a police officer. I was kinda into being a hero, I guess.” Mark laughed softly, “but my mom was always forcing me to be girly.” He shrugged, “she’d do my makeup and hair and make me wear dresses.”

                 “Did you ever get along with her?” Roger asked.

                 “Not really,” Mark shook his head, “she never really understood that I wanted to create things and make friends who wanted to talk about more than boys or… I don’t know, ponies or something.” He laughed a bit, shrugging, “I liked saving people--I wanted to read stories about girls saving other girls or boys, like a princess saving a prince instead of the other way around. I learned how to fix a car when I was about twelve and I used to fix watches and clocks.”

                 “Really?” Roger blinked in surprise.

                 “Yeah,” Mark smiled, “I really liked re-building old clocks and sometimes radios. I had one from my grandma and I took it apart once and had to figure out how to put it back together.”

                 “Did you fix anything else?”

                 “Sometimes, I fixed a cassette player for my sisters and a Walkman once.” He shrugged, “little stuff like that. But um, I fixed cars with my grandpa, who was really nice and… Understood me.” Mark nodded, thinking about it, “I told him that I felt like a boy more than a girl and he told me that I should go with my feelings. That if I want to be a boy that I’m allowed to be a boy.”

                 “That’s nice,” Roger smiled, “is he still around?”

                 “Yeah,” Mark nodded, “he’s still kicking--but I don’t know if he feels the same way as he used to.”

                 “There’s only one way to find out,” Roger shrugged, “give him a call.”

                 “I will,” Mark smiled, biting his lip, “but I uh--my mom was really awful. She thought everything I did was wrong and just… Was disappointed in me, I guess.”

                 “That’s dumb,” Roger mumbled, “it doesn’t matter what she thinks, Mark. You’re doing better than she is. You’ve got your family and you’ve got…” He trailed off, blushing lightly.

                 Mark smiled a bit and nudged Roger, “I’ve got what?”

                 “Me…” Roger laughed softly, biting his lip, “you’ve got me.”

                 “Yes I do,” he grinned and kissed Roger’s cheek. “You’re adorable.”

                 “No,” Roger shook his head, laughing a bit harder, “no, no, I’m not.”

                 “Well, I think you are.” Mark kissed his cheek, “so… Your turn.”

                 Roger nodded a little and thought about it, having a hard time deciding where to start. “My mom was… Amazing.” He finally chose, “she understood what was going on while she was okay--and my dad, I mean, together they were the perfect couple.” Roger glanced up at Mark’s eyes, “when they fought, they made compromises, they worked it out and figured out a way to make both of them happy. My dad was a great guy too, he was happy and always made sure my brother and I were happy.” 

                 He sighed, his head dropping, “but my mom was sick. Even before Alex was born--she knew and didn’t tell us. She thought it would ruin our family if we knew she was in pain.” Roger’s voice grew thick, “we um… We didn’t find out until a doctor called us. After Alex was born, she was in more obvious pain and one day I guess she slipped up, forgot her purse at the doctor’s office and my brother answered the phone. Her face when my dad asked why she’d gone to the doctor was…” He hesitated, then shook his head, “I can’t get it out of my head sometimes. She looked mortified, as if she’d just had this huge, secret exposed, even though we all knew something was up.”

                 “And when she had to go into the hospital that first time, Alex was probably… One or two, he’d never seen her outside of a hospital or hospice. That’s all he knew. After a while that’s all any of us knew.” Roger muttered, biting his lip, “but then my dad started drinking and smoking--he’d clean up and shower on the days we went to see her, but every other day he was in some dirty t-shirt, drinking himself into a stupor. It… Was awful. Especially when he started associating things. It was like one day he had this genius moment where he decided that it was Alex’s fault. She was like… Five? Maybe six?” Roger laughed dryly, his smile sad. “And I’d gone out with some friends to play some stupid game. I got home and he was beaten to a pulp.” Roger shook his head, “I pushed my dad away and called for my brother--who wasn’t home either. He came back after I got pretty hurt too, and I just… I just wanted to protect him, y’know? Alex didn’t cause any of it and I… I thought I could stop him.” 

                 Roger swallowed hard, then coughed and shrugged, “I--I don’t know.”

                 He got up to put his dish in the sink, but as he stood, Mark quickly pulled him close, hugging him tightly. Roger was stiff, not giving in. But as Mark’s arms tightened around him, Roger finally cracked. He nuzzled his head in Mark’s shoulder and started to cry, bunching Mark’s shirt up in his hands. 

                 “I should’ve been better.” Roger struggled to say, “I should’ve protected him.”

                 “That wasn’t your job, Roger,” Mark said softly, his hand reaching up into Roger’s hair, “you were just a kid. You couldn’t stop anything that happened. You did more than you were expected to do.”

                 “It’s my fault that he’s dead,” his voice was barely there, but Mark heard it. And everything clicked.

                 He pulled back and cupped Roger’s face in his hands, “it was  _ not _ your fault, Roger.” Mark’s tone was firm, his eyes wide as he watched his boyfriend. “You were just a kid. No one expects a kid to keep their family safe. That’s--no kid is supposed to have to do that. You went so far and beyond what people expected of you, I--Roger, look at me.” 

                 Roger’s eyes had closed as he tried to calm down, but after a minute, Roger looked at Mark, trying his best to take deep breaths. 

                 “I’m proud of you, Roger.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fucking christ sorry this took so long. I had a friend sleep over one day more than expected and then we're in the process of moving so things have been kinda nuts.


	13. Chapter 13

                 Spring came and went, faster than anyone particularly enjoyed. Before they knew it, Mark and Roger left the windows in every room open and let the stiff breeze of New York waft through their windows.

                 And if it were possible, the two boys had grown closer together, and were actually in the middle of packing for a summer trip to go visit Roger’s brother in California. It would be for a few weeks, and they had left everything till the day of their flight.

                 Mostly because Mark had gotten a fever out of nowhere and spent the last two weeks either over the toilet, throwing everything up, or in bed, completely passed out. The sudden illness freaked Roger out, but Mark said it happened sometimes, where someone in his family would just get  _ really _ sick and then have a sudden, miraculous recovery. There was no way to explain it (that’s what Mark said at least). So up until that point, Mark had been too lethargic and Roger was too busy keeping Mark from throwing up in their bed to pack. 

                 But packing was a drag, and Roger was taking a break to paint a bit before they had lunch. The breeze was hot and they had gotten quite a few fans over spring to air out the apartment, and now they had all of the fans going at once to cool them down. Mark was stuck in his room, trying to fold everything as tiny as he could. He grabbed some condoms from his nightstand, figuring that they would be busy, but that some night one of them would probably get the other all worked up and they’d end up alone in their room together.

                 Roger hadn’t exactly told his brother that he was dating Mark, but rather that he had a surprise, a better one than last time. Mark danced around as he grabbed a few other things from the apartment and threw them into his carry-on bag, like his insane notebook that had pages falling out of it, his new (old) camera, plenty of film, and little odds and ends. 

                 Since they’d started dating, Mark’s dad, David, had really taken a liking to Roger and was giving him strange things. Like an old guitar that David never played anymore, now sat leaning against the couch where Roger often played. Or the old fish tank Mark had as a kid, where they now proudly kept their small collection of succulents alive (Mark had  _ insisted _ on getting them at the farmer’s market). But ultimately, the best thing Roger got from David was his massive record collection, full of great music. And they often played a record, like right now when they had The Beatles Magical Mystery Tour on, currently playing  _ Strawberry Fields Forever _ . 

                 Mark didn’t have a favorite song--at least, not one he could ever decide on. But this one was definitely up in the charts.

                 “Oh! I forgot to tell you,” Mark looked at Roger, setting his bag down.

                 “What?” Roger smiled, Mark often forgot many things.

                 “My aunts--well, they’re kinda like my adopted aunts…” Mark trailed off, but shrugged, “they’re getting married in San Francisco towards the end of our trip.”

                 “Your aunts?” Roger raised an eyebrow.

                 “Okay, well, it was a lady my dad worked with and she found her partner a couple of years ago--they stopped associating with us because of my mom, but now… She’s invited us to their wedding!” Mark grinned, “so pack something nice.”

                 “Have you seen all of my clothes?” Roger laughed, “I don’t have anything nice.”

                 “Well… We’ll just have to get you something nice, then,” Mark decided, “there’s plenty of places in California to go shopping.”

                 Roger smiled and watched his boy dance around the room for a moment before gesturing him to come over. “I want a kiss.”

                 “Oh you do?” Mark laughed as he slowly made his way over, “and I’m gonna give it to you, you think?” 

                 “Well, someone is,” Roger grinned and shrugged, painting another stroke. “Just a quick one.”

                 “Fuck you, just a quick one,” Mark laughed harder and wrapped his arms around Roger’s neck, kissing him deeply.

                 In a blind fumble, Roger went to wrap his arms around Mark’s waist, but accidentally knocked his mason jar of paint water to the ground. He pulled back and groaned, going to pick the two biggest pieces up.

                 “Be careful,” Mark commented, sighing softly as he went out in search of another jar.

                 “I know-- _ shit _ .” He hissed as one of the pieces split in two, slicing his finger open.

                 Suddenly, Roger’s demeanor changed, and he quickly grabbed a towel to press against his hand as looked for bandaids.

                 “Are you okay?”

                 “Yeah.” Roger responded quickly, definitely in a different world now.

                 Picking up on the change, Mark looked over at Roger quizzically.

“What’s going on, Roger?” Mark asked, sighing as he stopped looking for a jar and started to gather the glass that had broken, picking up the big pieces and throwing them into the trash can.

“Nothing,” he shook his head and held his hand close to himself, “just—I can take care of it myself.”

“No, no, you take care of me when I’m— _ shit _ .” Mark groaned as he looked at the slice he’d just made on a few fingers.

“What?” Roger asked, setting down the towel as he grabbed their first aid supplies.

“I cut myself,” Mark shook his head and quickly swept everything up and threw it away, then went over by Roger and started to clean out his own cuts.

“Oh—um, okay, just—hold on.” Roger worked quickly to wrap his hand up so he could help Mark.

Unknowingly, Mark grabbed the towel that Roger had used and was about to press it to his fingers when Roger ripped it out of his hands, his eyes wide.

“ _ Don’t use that. _ ”

Mark rolled his eyes, “Roger—c’mon, I need something to apply pressure to this.” He went to grab the towel again but Roger stuck it in his pocket and shook his head.

“Use a new one.” He said firmly.

“Wow, so dramatic,” Mark made a face at Roger and grabbed a new towel. “We didn’t have to get two of them dirty.”

“Yes, we did.” Roger shook his head and finished wrapping up his hand, flexing it to see how well it stayed.

“No, we didn’t. I could’ve used that one and everything would’ve been— “

“I have HIV.” Roger snapped, keeping his head down as he started working on cleaning and bandaging Mark’s cuts, being careful to keep his own injury away from Mark’s.

Mark didn’t say anything for a minute, watching Roger the whole time.

“That isn’t funny, Roger.” He shook his head and pulled away the minute Roger let go.

“I’m not making a joke.” Roger said it quietly.

“Yeah you are,” Mark pulled away, “c’mon, that’s really a rude joke.”

Roger huffed and went to his room, returning a moment later with a few pieces of paper. He slammed it down on the wooden island in their kitchen.

“What’s this?” Mark asked, glancing at the papers.

“My diagnosis.” He crossed his arms, “read it.”

Mark rolled his eyes and read the paper, slowly growing pale. He read them all—every page that told him about the condition, despite already having a general idea. Once he was done, he set the papers down and looked at Roger, his eyes watery.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Mark asked, looking at Roger in confusion. “I—I wouldn’t have cared.”

“It’s not something you just go around telling people.” Roger shrugged, trying to not let his emotions get the best of him.

“Uh—yes, it is.” Mark’s jaw tightened. “You’re supposed to tell your fucking boyfriend that you have HIV.”

“It never came up naturally, okay?” Roger looked at him, “and it’s not like I let anything happen that isn’t completely and entirely safe.”

“But what if it wasn’t? Hm?” Mark asked, his eyes growing wide as he suddenly realized what could have happened with him not knowing. “What if—if we got drunk or—or high or something and you didn’t care and I didn’t know—what then, Roger? What if you passed out and we both had cuts and you weren’t there to tell me not to touch yours? Huh?”

Mark was losing it; he couldn’t believe that Roger would keep this from him. He was starting to panic, tears started streaming down his cheeks, shaking his head as he sniffed.

“Why—why—why don’t you have a medical ID or something?” Mark asked, gesturing to his wrist, “how—you… You should’ve told me when I moved in, Roger. That was the right time. When--When we talk and we’re honest with each other,  _ that’s _ the right time.” He huffed, “you had  _ so _ many opportunities to tell me that you have fucking HIV and it never occurred to you to tell me?”

“Yes it did.” Roger stopped him, “but you know what’s hard to do when you’re taking care of a kid— “

“Don’t you  _ dare _ call me a kid.” Mark pointed at him, “don’t you  _ fucking dare _ .”

Roger took a deep breath and nodded a little, “still. I was here to take care of you. And I never found a good time.”

Mark rubbed his eyes and looked away, “I should leave.” He shook his head, “I should leave you—you, you didn’t tell me a vital, life-changing thing about you.”

Roger sighed softly and looked at the ground, “you’re right.”

He didn’t speak for a moment, but when he did, Mark looked right back at Roger, “I won’t.”

“What?” Roger blinked in surprise and looked up at him.

“This doesn’t change how I feel about you. Well—kinda—cause I’m fucking mad at you right now but… In the end this doesn’t change anything. I still— “Mark took a breath, “I still love you, Roger.”

It took Roger by surprise, his eyebrows knit together as he thought about what that meant, “you… Love me?”

Mark shrugged and wiped his eyes, “yeah. I do. I thought we uh, I thought we were at that point. But I guess if we aren’t then— “

Roger wrapped his arms around Mark and kissed him hard, pressing as close to him as possible.

This time it was Mark who was taken aback, but he fell into the kiss, leaning against Roger’s chest as he tangled his hands in his hair.

When Roger pulled back, he stayed close to Mark, resting his forehead against Mark’s. They stood there for a minute, taking deep breaths as they both thought about the new point they had reached. Slowly, Mark’s hand moved to trace Roger’s jaw, smoothing his fingers over the stubble that had started growing along his cheeks.

They stayed silent, neither knowing what to say. After a bit, Mark pulled away and sighed softly, “c’mon.”

He took Roger’s hand and gently pulled him to their couch and patted the middle cushion. Roger smiled a little and sat down, then held his arms out for Mark to sit in his lap. Even though it was a small gesture, it meant everything to Mark, who happily sat down and curled up in Roger’s arms. He shifted so they were laying down, keeping his arms tight around Mark as he shuffled to get comfortable.

“I love you too,” Roger whispered, pressing a kiss to Mark’s forehead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things... get a little rough in California. Sorry to say--but hey you read the tags you know something sad was going to happen.


	14. Chapter 14

                 Mark never liked flying. He’d done it a few times when he was a kid, gone to Florida and Illinois, once to New Mexico to visit some family in Santa Fe. But he hated flying. The whole time, he squeezed Roger’s hand tightly, eyes shut tight as he was breathing heavily.

                 “You’re fine,” Roger said softly, squeezing Mark’s hand reassuringly, “it’ll be okay.”

                 “Have we landed?”

                 “No, just a few more minutes though,” Roger reassured him, kissing his cheek. “We’re okay, we’re safe.”

                 “How do you know?” Mark mumbled, glancing at Roger quickly.

                 “Cause we are,” he nodded, “I just know it.”

                 As promised, they landed safely, and got off the plane without issue (though Mark slammed himself onto the ground and took a few minutes to breathe and appreciate the simplicity of being still). But Roger got Mark moving within ten minutes, and got them into a taxi. Mark rubbed his temples as he sat in the car with his backpack on his lap.

                 “You’re okay…” Roger hushed softly, putting his hand on Mark’s leg.

                 “I know, my head just hurts,” he pouted a bit, “it always does after flying.”

                 “Okay,” Roger nodded and sighed, watching him closely.

                 They were at Roger’s brother’s house soon enough. He got out and paid the cabbie, then grabbed their stuff as Mark got out.

                 “It’s bright here…” Mark mumbled, shuffling his feet.

                 “It’s California,” Roger laughed, “you don’t do the sun much, huh, babe?” 

                 Mark blushed lightly and shrugged, “I’m an indoor person.”

                 “You’re silly,” Roger grinned and took their bags up to the front door, Mark following slowly behind him.

                 Something about this made Mark nervous. He didn’t know what to expect of Roger’s brother, but he had a feeling it would be bad. Roger rang the doorbell and clasped his hands together, grinning excitedly. A moment later the door opened and there stood Roger’s brother--a man who was a little taller than Roger was, with long hair that was dyed black, and the same deep eyes. They could’ve been twins.

                 “Roger!” He laughed and hugged his brother tightly.

                 “Ben!” Roger grinned, hugging him as tightly as he could.

                 “How’re you?” Ben pulled back smiled, looking him over. “You look… Taken care of.”

                 “Well, uh, yeah, about that… I uh, I started dating someone.” He grinned and looked at Mark, holding his hand out to him. “Ben, this is Mark.”

                 Ben looked Mark over and nodded slowly, studying him closely.

                 He sniffed and wiped his nose, then smiled, “hi Mark, I’m sure my brother didn’t meant to make you a surprise, but I’m glad you’re here.”

                 “Thank you,” Mark smiled, blushing awfully bad. “I um, I’m really happy to be here.”

                 Ben looked Mark over again, as if he were deciding something. Finally he nodded and pulled their bags in, letting Roger tug Mark in. Roger let go of Mark’s hand and went into Ben’s living room, which was littered with band shit. From records to framed t-shirts, Ben had it all. Including a bunch of instruments.

                 And before Ben could hide it, Mark noticed the cocaine.

                 But Roger was almost oblivious, painfully naive to it as he sat down at a desk with a massive computer and hardware on it.

                 “You’ve been working on new music?” Roger asked, glancing over at his brother, who was dumping the magazine with his drug crap on it into a box, then shoved that box into a drawer in his table.

                 “Hell yeah, I finally got to talk to Jesse and he’s got connections, y’know, so we just paired up with some artists and made some tracks.

                 Mark stood back, watching the two of them interacting. After a few moments, he sneezed and suddenly felt a wave come on, his head suddenly feeling like a bubble.

                 “Shit…” Mark mumbled, pressing the palm of his hand to his forehead.

                 “You okay, babe?” Roger glanced back at him, worry in his eyes.

                 “Yeah, I just uh… Do you have pot here?” Mark asked, squeezing his eyes shut.

                 “Oh yeah, you want some?” Ben asked.

                 Roger whacked him and gave him a disapproving look, “he’s eighteen. Stop that.”

                 “No, no, I--I can’t have any. I’m allergic.”

                 “Allergic?” Ben raised an eyebrow, laughing a little, “the fuck? How’re you allergic?”

                 “I uh--” Mark had to focus as his migraine grew more intense. “Um… My sister used to smoke it and--she uh… We were…” He put his hand against the wall to steady himself, “hanging out and I just… Can--Can I go lay down?”

                 Roger jumped up and wrapped an arm under Mark’s, helping keep him up, “yeah, of course, love.”

                 “Upstairs, last room on the left,” Ben shrugged, “that’s your best bet.”

                 “Okay,” Roger nodded and lead Mark up the stairs, getting him into the small bed in the room Ben had told them to go to.

                 “I’m sorry, he usually doesn’t smoke it in the house,” Roger played with Mark’s hair.

                 Mark grabbed Roger’s hand and squeezed it, cringing a bit. “No, no, it’s okay--I should’ve told you about that before.” Mark shook his head a little, “um… It’ll go away. Just give me some time and--can I have my inhaler out of my bag?”

                 “Yeah,” Roger nodded, kissing his hands. “Just so I know, what else are you allergic to?”

                 “Um…” Mark thought about it, taking a deep breath, “peas, most metal, and uh… Alcohol in lotions and perfumes.”

                 “Okay,” Roger smiled a little, “I’ll go grab your inhaler.

                 He got up and left, while he was gone, Mark took off his shirt and binder, pressing his hand against his forehead. Roger came back soon and blinked when he saw Mark. 

                 “Woah--is it worse?” He asked.

                 “Have you never had a migraine?” Mark asked quietly. 

                 “No,” Roger responded in the same tone, sitting next to him on the bed.

                  “Oh… Okay, well, uh, cold dark spaces help me a lot,” Mark nodded, “that’s what I do to get rid of mine.”

                 “Oh--I’ll get you an ice pack then, okay?” Roger took Mark’s hand again, “I’ll get Ben to turn down the AC too, okay?”

                 Mark nodded and sighed shakily, “thank you.”

                 “Of course,” Roger kissed Mark’s cheek.

                 He left Mark alone and went back downstairs.

                 “Can you turn down the AC? I’m gonna grab him an ice pack to help,” Roger asked.

                 “Sure,” Ben nodded and turned it down.

                 Roger ran back up and gave Mark the ice pack, but came down pretty quick.

                 “So… He’s not really a he, huh?” Ben asked, raising an eyebrow.

                 Roger frowned and groaned, “don’t be an asshole. Mark’s a guy. Let him be.” 

                 “I’m just asking,” Ben shrugged, “he’s small.”

                 “He has an eating disorder.” Roger shook his head, “he’s going through a hard time.”

                 “You really know how to pick ‘em.’ Ben rolled his eyes.

                 “Hey--April wasn’t great. Okay, I’ll give you that.” Roger shrugged, “but Mark’s different. He’s fantastic and--and handsome and great. He’s… He’s been helping me.”

                 “With what?” Ben asked, raising an eyebrow.

                 Roger’s face dropped and he played with his hands, “I uh, I guess I didn’t realize how guilty I felt about Alex--and so… We’ve been talking about it and I’ve found that I just needed to get it all out.”

                 That seemed to strike a chord with Ben. He nodded a little and pulled at all his hair back. “I uh… I don’t think about Alex too much. It’s… Hard.”

                 “But MArk really understands, and talks with me about it. We go visit him all the time.” Roger smiled a bit.

                 “Well... “ Ben clearly regretted what he had said, “um… I’m glad. I’m glad you’ve got someone. I kinda broke up with Lucy, but--oh,” he laughed a little. “She uh… Lied to me about something.”

                 “What?” Roger raised an eyebrow.

                 “She had a kid. My kid.” Ben shrugged, “disappeared for a year and came back with this two month old and… Man, I swear I’m trying to get better for that little fucker.”

                 “Well… I’m glad.” Roger smiled, “so I get to meet them?”

                 “Hell yeah, tomorrow. She’s bringing him to dinner.” Ben beamed with pride.

                 “Awesome,” Roger smiled and clapped his brother on the back. “Mark and I are gonna get going soon, I don’t want him here if he’s allergic to pot.”

                 “That’s fair,” Ben nodded and shrugged. After a minute, he asked, “how’d you end up with an eighteen year old? You’re twenty-three--it’s a little… Creepy.”

                 “Mark ran away,” Roger shrugged, “I don’t really know how he found me but someone suggested he live with me and so he does. And we just kinda… Okay--I got a little drunk and we fucked, but there were feelings there before that. I just… Didn’t see them.”

                 “Oh,” Ben nodded, “well, hey, I’m glad you really feel something for him. But… Don’t you think it’s strange since he’s so young?”

                 “You were young when you fell for Lucy.” Roger pointed out, “She’s the reason you moved too, so you don’t get to say anything.”

                 He sighed and shrugged, “okay, okay, I won’t fight you on it.”

 

                 The next day, Roger and Mark were meeting Ben and Lucy. They’d gotten to the restaurant early and were sitting in a booth, waiting patiently. Mark tapped his fingers against his chest, looking around as he anxiously waited. Roger wrapped an arm around Mark’s shoulders and kissed his cheek.

                 “You’re okay,” he smiled, “I promise.”

                 “I know,” Mark nodded and smiled too, biting his lip as he kept tapping. “I’m just nervous when I meet new people.”

                 “I get that,” Roger nodded in agreement. “But Lucy’s really sweet, she’s helped my brother through a lot.”

                 “Good,” Mark smiled and bit his lip, watching Roger closely.

                 “What?” He laughed softly, grinning cutely.

                 “You’re just really handsome,” Mark smiled and kissed his cheeks.

                 “Thanks,” Roger blushed lightly and grinned cutely, “you’re not too bad yourself, y’know.”

                 Roger reached over and kissed his boyfriend, holding him close.

                 There was a cough, and Mark pulled back, blushing lightly.

                 “Roger!” A young, beautiful Latina lady who held a baby in her arms grinned.

                 Roger got up and carefully hugged her, “Lucy! How’re you?”

                 “I’m good,” she smiled, “this is Finn, he’s just turning four months old.”

                 “Aw,” Roger smiled and looked at him, “wow--he really looks like Ben.”

                 “Right?” Lucy nodded, “but he’s got my dark hair.”

                 “He’s very handsome,” Roger smiled, then looked at Mark. “Lucy, this is Mark, my boyfriend.”

                 “Hi!” She smiled and wrapped an arm around Mark.

                 “Hi,” Mark laughed lightly, glancing at Finn--and instantly melted. “Oh my god, he’s so small...”

                 “Isn’t he?” Lucy laughed lightly, “he fit into your hand when he was born, but he’s gotten a lot bigger since then.”

                 “Can I hold him?” Mark asked, his eyes big and sparkly.

                 “Of course!” Lucy grinned and carefully gave Finn over to Mark. 

                 Roger smiled a little and stood back, watching as Mark cradled Finn close to his body, lightly bouncing him.

                 Lucy and Ben sat down, and Roger came back next to Mark, still watching how he interacted with Finn.

                 “He really seems to like you,” Lucy nodded.

                 “Who? Finn or Roger?” Ben joked, grinning as he gestured to Roger, who was still watching Mark closely.

                 “Both,” Lucy laughed, “but Finn isn’t crying--and he cried the minute you touched him.”

                 “Yeah, yeah,” Ben rolled his eyes.

                 “He usually cries when guys hold him, but he’s so relaxed with you,” Lucy smiled.

                 “Well, um, I’m actually trans--so, it kinda makes sense.” Mark nodded, “and I used to babysit all the kids in my neighborhood too, so I’m pretty good with babies.”

                 “Ohhh,” Lucy nodded, “you seemed too cute.” She grinned a little and waved her hand, “not that the boys aren’t cute, but you’re definitely adorable.”

                 “Thanks,” Mark laughed a little--a tiny bit uncomfortable, but mostly okay with her comments.                 

                 “So, do you have any kids?” Lucy asked, “I mean, you just seem like a natural m--I mean, dad.”

                 Mark was relieved that she had caught herself, but he started to turn red anyways.

                 “Um, well, almost.” He nodded, looking down at Finn. “I uh--something happened and I kinda, I mean--I never went to a hospital for it but… I uh, I got attacked.” Mark was soft as he spoke, for some reason, feeling very comfortable with Lucy. “And a few months later I had a miscarriage. I just uh, I woke up in the middle of the night to a ton of blood and…” Mark trailed off, “I panicked and called my best friend who sat with me the whole night until it stopped.”

                 Everyone was quiet--Lucy reached out and touched Mark’s hand. Roger just stared at him--looking almost hurt. He had known about the attack but none of the aftermath--and what hurt wasn’t that Mark hadn’t told him, it was that he had to go through that at such a young age. Ben couldn’t believe it, he just watched Mark closely, and after a minute, spoke up.

                 “Um… Well, on behalf of whatever asshole who did that to you, I’m sorry,” he nodded a little, biting his lip.

                 “Yeah,” Lucy agreed, “I’m really sorry, honey.”

                 “It’s okay,” Mark shook his head and adjusted how he was holding Finn. “It was hard to deal with but it was okay.”

                 Roger sat in silence, part of him wanting to kick and scream at the asshole who had hurt Mark, but the other half just wanted to hold him and keep him close. Either way, lunch went nicely, and the five parted ways pleasantly--Lucy promising that she’d call Mark and tell him all about Finn’s progress.

                 Once Mark and Roger got back to the hotel room, Roger kissed Mark hard, gripping his shoulders tightly as he pulled him close. Mark was surprised, but went with it, he put his hands against Roger’s chest and pulled back after a moment or two.

                 “What was that for?” He laughed softly, running his hands through Roger’s hair.

                 “I--I just didn’t know about…” He trailed off, looking disappointed in himself.

                 “It’s okay,” it clicked for Mark, and he shook his head. “I don’t tell anyone about that stuff, how were you to know?”

                 “I--I just should’ve.” He shook his head and kissed Mark again, holding it for a bit longer this time. As he pulled away, he rested his forehead against Mark’s. “I’m so sorry baby.”

                 “It’s okay, really,” Mark smiled sadly, “I--I didn’t even know I was pregnant until it was over.”

                 “That’s worse.” Roger pointed out, “way worse.”

                 Mark sighed and shrugged, “I just… I don’t know, it’s not that big of a deal, love.”

                 “It is to me,” Roger shook his head and pulled Mark into a tight hug.

                 “Are you mad that I didn’t tell you?” Mark asked softly, nuzzling into Roger’s shoulder.

                 “No,” he shook his head, tightening his arms around Mark. “Never.”

                 “Okay…” Mark mumbled softly, sighing as he held Roger close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna be gone for a few days, so expect quite the update once I'm back!


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! My hotel has WIFI, so you're getting two new chapters tonight.

                 A few days of sightseeing later, Mark and Roger were meeting up with Mark’s aunts. Mark excitedly tapped his fingers against his chest, looking around happily as they waited at the coffee shop. Roger wasn’t sure what to expect from them, but he was definitely excited. From what Mark had told him, they were some great women.

                 “I used to spend the summers with them,” Mark nodded, staring at the door as he waited to see them come in.

                 “How long has it been since you’ve seen them?” Roger asked, running his hand through Mark’s hair.

                 “Probably… Eleven years?” Mark guessed, “yeah, that sounds about right.”

                 “Wow,” Roger nodded a bit, “how close are you to them?”

                 “Pretty close,” Mark nodded, sighing softly, “when my mom cut off contact with them it was hard, but they were excited to hear from me—even if it was in secret.”

                 “Well that’s good.” He smiled, kissing the side of Mark’s head.

                 A few more minutes passed and before they knew it, two older ladies walked into the coffee shop. Mark jumped up and rushed over to the two of them, wrapping his arms around them excitedly.

                 “Alice!” He laughed lightly, “Kelly! How’re you guys?”

                 “Good,” the blonde lady smiled, “how’re you sweetheart?”

                 “Great,” Mark grinned, biting his lip as he pulled back. “I um—I’ve got someone I want you two to meet.”

                 “Oh look at that, Alice,” the other woman smiled, “we haven’t even been here a minute and he’s got a surprise for us.”

                 “You’re so cute, Mark,” Alice laughed and hugged him once more.

                 “C’mon,” Mark gently tugged them over to Roger when she let go of him.

                 “Alice, Kelly, this is Roger—my boyfriend.”

                 “Hi honey,” Kelly smiled, holding out her hand, “I’m Kelly.”

                 “It’s nice to meet you—I’ve heard a lot about you two,” Roger shook her hand, smiling sweetly.

                 “Hopefully good things,” Alice winked, her arm around Mark’s waist.

                 “Of c ourse it’s good things,” Roger laughed, shaking his head, “Mark thinks the world of you two.”

                 “Awww,” Alice smiled and kissed Mark’s cheek. “We think the world of Mark.”

                 “Sit down sweetheart, we’ve got all day to be with the boys.” Kelly laughed softly.

                 Alice let go of Mark and sat across from them, Mark sat back down next to Roger and took his hand under the table.

                 “So how’ve you been? How’s your dad?” Kelly asked, propping her head on her hands.

                 “He’s great—I’ve been great.” Mark smiled, biting his lip, “well—I mean, more recently I’ve been great. Before I left tthings were… Awful. But um, then I left and I met Roger and… Things are amazing now.”

                 Roger smiled and squeezed his hand, glancing at him like he was his whole world.

                 “Your mom was awful,” Alice agreed, shaking her head, “I can’t believe she would say thiose things to you.”

                 “I know,” Mark sighed, shaking his head, “but I’m really glad that dad and I have connected again—which is actually thanks to Roger.”

                 “Really?” Alice asked, blinking in surprise.

                 “Yeah,” Mark nodded, “I um, I went on a date with a guy and he kinda beat me up and I got home and Roger noticed I was hurt and called dad. He came and took us to the hospital cause I was _really_ hurt.”

                 “He was so bruised,” Roger shook his head, “I couldn’t believe it.”

                 “Oh my gosh…” Kelly mumbled, “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

                 “Oh—it’s okay, I mean, it wasn’t okay, but I’ve grown from it. I don’t trust people as easily anymore.”

                 “But it made us grow much closer,” Roger nodded, smiling as he kissed Mark’s cheek. “Much closer.”

                 “It really did,” Mark nodded in agreement, “which was so nice.”

                 “I’m glad you have someone, honey,” Alice smiled, looking at Roger. “And I’m glad it’s you—you seem very trustworthy.”

                 “I try,” Roger smiled and shrugged.

                 Suddenly, it dawned on Mark.

                 “Did you take your AZT?” He looked at Roger, eyes wide.

                 “Oh—shit, no,” he shook his head and grabbed Mark’s backpack, digging around in it till he found his pills.

                 Quickly taking them, Alice and Kelly looked at each other with concern.

                 “You… Have HIV?” Kelly asked.

                 “Yeah,” Roger nodded, shrugging a bit, “I uh, I did some dumb stuff when I was Mark’s age and I… Unfortunately, wasn’t safe.” HE shook his head, “but—we’re safe. We’re very sa fe.” Roger nodded, “I promise, I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize Mark’s health.”

                 They both nodded, and Alice reached out, taking Roger’s hand. “We trust you, honey. We were just a little surprised.”

                 “I’m sorry to hear about that, though,” Kelly nodded, “it’s unfortunate.”

                 “Yeah,” Roger shrugged, “it’s my own fault though. And I know that. I uh, I make better choices now and I don’t and won’t let anything happen where Mark could catch it.”

                 “Good,” Alice nodded, “We’re glad to hear that.”

                 Mark frowned a little, looking between them all, “but… If I did catch it, I’d be fine.” Mark pointed out, “yes, things would be harder and I’d have to live with it, but just because someone has HIV doesn’t mean that their life is over. You continue to live even if you have it. I wouldn’t let my life stop just because of a disease.”

                 Roger glanced at Mark and watched him in surprise, a little shocked that he had already thought it through so much.

                 “Well… You’re right,” Kelly nodded, “we just want to make sure you stay healthy and don’t catch it.”

                 “I know, I understand.” Mark nodded, “but I’m fine. I would be fine.”

                 “Mark has a point,” Alice nodded. “Roger, you don’t seem like the kind of person who would let this take over their life.”

                 “I don’t,” Roger shook his head, “I still paint and follow my passions.”

                 “That’s good,” Kelly smiled, nodding, “that’s what’s important.”

                 Mark smiled to himself, glad to have gotten that point across.

                 “So… Your wedding is next week,” Mark changed the topic, “are you guys excited?”

                 “Very,” Alice grinned and looked at Kelly, “we can’t wait.”

                 “Remember, honey, you can come if you want to, we won’t make you though.”

                 “How could I miss it?” Mark laughed da bit, “dad’s gonna be jealous that I got to go.”

                 “You’ve got a point,” Kelly laughed, “how’re your sisters?”

                 “Good,” Mark nodded, then rolled his eyes, “Cindy’s still with Greg.”

                 “Really?” Alice groaned, “I thought she left him.”

                 “So did I—but she was wearing her ring this last time that I saw her, so I guess they’ve worked it out.”

                 “She deserves better,” Kelly mumbled, shaking her head.

                 “I know,” Mark nodded in agreement, “but whatever, it’s her choice to stay with him.”

                 “Hopefully she snaps out of it soon,” Alice shook her head, sighing softly.

                 “I hope so,” Mark mumbled.

                 The four stayed quiet for a few minutes, but then Kelly piped up.

                 “So, Roger, you said you’re a painter?”

                 Yeah,” Roger nodded, smiling, “I uh, I’m still working on getting a spot in a local society, but things seem to be stalling there.”

                 “That’s unfortunate,” she frowned, “I’m sorry to hear that.”

                 It’s okay, it gives me more time to expand y portfolio.”

                 “That’s true,” Alice nodded, “how did you two meet?”

                 “Well, as I told you before, I left home and one of my teachers told me about Roger and said that he needed a roommate, so I um, I went to Roger’s apartment and started living with him. And then after a few months we just kinda… Well, after I got attacked that’s when we really started to get close.” Mark nodded, “and from there we started to sleep next to each other until finally we uh…” He blushed and smiled, glancing at Roger, “started dating, I guess.”

                 Alice and Kelly smiled, nodding a bit.

                 “That’s sweet,” Alice smiled, nodding. “I’m really glad to hear that.”

                 “You two seem to have found each other when you most needed one another,” Kelly chimed in.

                 “I think we really did,” Mark nodded, “I know I definitely needed Roger when we found each other.

                 “I’m so glad, Mark,” Alice smiled, nodding, “you two are very cute together.”

                 “Thank you,” Roger smiled, “though it’s Mark who’s the cute one.”

                 Mark blushed and nudged him, “no…”

                 “Yes,” he laughed and nudged Mark right back. “It’s true.”

                 “Ugh,” Mark laughed and put his head in his hands, blushing terribly bad.

                 Alice and Kelly laughed, shaking their heads.

                 “Don’t antagonize the poor boy,” Kelly reached over and messed with Mark’s hair.

                 “I’ll antagonize him a little,” Roger laughed lightly, shrugging, “he’s my boy, so a little is okay.”

                 Mark blushed more and peeked out to look at Roger, “I’m your boy, huh?”

                 “Yeah,” Roger grinned, “you’re my boy.”

                 “Aww,” Alice nudged Kelly and grinned, “they’re so cute.”

                 Mark groaned loudly and flopped back in his seat, “okay, okay, can we move on?”

                 “Aww, someone’s shy,” Kelly laughed, “but okay, we’ll move on if it makes you happy.”

 

 

 

                 A few days later, they were nearing the end of their trip. And Mark and Roger had been invited to the rehearsal dinner for Mark’s aunts. The two showed up, Mark looking quite cute in a nice sweater and some dress pants that Angel had helped pick out. Roger was wearing something much nicer than he would later wear to their wedding, but Mark didn’t mind at that moment. They walked into the church, and right away, Mark was in awe. There were flowers everywhere—mostly not in bloom yet, though it wouldn’t be long. Roger took his hand and lead him through the church. No one else was there yet, so they had time to wander. Walking around, Mark squeezed Roger’s hand.

                 “It’s beautiful,” Mark said softly, stopping in the middle of the aisle, looking around the empty church.

                 “It really is,” Roger nodded, smiling as he held onto Mark’s hand tightly.

                 After a moment, Roger felt a surge in his chest, and he looked over at Mark.

                 “Hey,” he said softly, taking Mark’s other hand.

                 “What?” Mark asked, raising an eyebrow as he watched Roger step closer.

                 “I…” He took a deep breath, “I want to promise you something.”

                 “Yeah?” Mark smiled, stepping closer to his boyfriend.

                 “Yeah,” Roger nodded and squeezed his hands. He looked around and lead Mark up to the beautiful archway at the end of the aisle, getting down on his knee.

                 Mark turned bright red and watched him in awe, unsure what to do.

                 “I promise that one day, we’re gonna have a family.” Roger nodded, biting his lip, “And we’re gonna be together.” He squeezed Mark’s hands, a blush starting to creep onto his cheeks. After a moment, he added, “one day I’m gonna propose to you.”

                 Mark turned red and pulled Roger up, kissing him intensely, grinning against his lips. Roger matched his smile, his arms wrapping around Mark’s waist. They held it for a moment, finally pulling back.

                 So… I take it you’ll say yes?”

                 “Of course I will,” Mark grinned, biting his lip as he watched Roger’s dark eyes. “How couldn’t I?”

                 “I don’t know,” Roger laughed and shrugged, “I wasn’t going to assume.”

                 “Well, you can definitely bet on me saying yes.”

                 Roger smiled and glanced at Mark’s lips, then back to his eyes, “I love you.”

                 “I love you too.”

 

                 

                 The day before they left was the wedding, and Mark looked even nicer that day—he had brought a lavender dress shirt with a matching, darker purple tie and some black dress pants. Roger, on the other hand, was wearing a shirt that was pastel pink due to some paint that had gotten onto it, and worse black jeans. Also splattered with paint. As much as Mark had wished that Roger would’ve brought something nice to wear, he had to admit—Roger looked hot. So, as much as he wished the older man would’ve dressed up, he definitely didn’t mind what he was wearing.

                 They got there early and sat towards the front of the pews, chatting with some of the older folks who had shown up early as well. Mark took Roger’s hand and squeezed, biting his lip as he looked at all of the blossomed flowers.

                 Mark grew quiet as Roger talked with an older woman, who kept commenting that he looked like a serious artist.

                 “I’ve been working very hard.” Roger nodded, his thumb smoothing over the back of Mark’s hand.

                 “It seems like it, dear,” she smiled, “you know, Kelly used to paint as well. I think she gave it up to become a teacher, though she could’ve easily became an art teacher.”

                 “That’s where I’m headed right now,” Roger nodded, “I’m working on getting my certification so I can teach art at Mark’s family’s synagogue.”

                 “Oh isn’t that nice! We’ve heard a bit about Mark’s family… Shame that his parents had to split, but we’re glad that they’re still involved in temple.”

                 “They’re better off this way,” Roger nodded, glancing at Mark. “Right baby?”

                 “What? Yeah,” Mark nodded, looking back at the person Roger was talking to, “Yeah, of course.”

                 Roger laughed softly, “Were you spacing out?”

                 “A little…” Mark mumbled, his ears turning red.

                 “That’s okay,” Roger smiled, squeezing Mark’s hand, “we were just talking about your dad and your sisters.”

                 “Oh—yeah, they’re really happy now.” Mark nodded, “I’m glad they’re away from my mom. She’s… Just in the wrong lane.”

                 “I’ve heard a little about it, dear,” the woman nodded, “I’m sorry to say, but I Think you did the right thing leaving them.”

                 “Yeah, I do too.” Mark nodded, glancing at Roger, “it’s brought me some good things.”

                 “I’m glad to hear,” she smiled, “well, I’ll let you two boys be.”

                 Mark smiled and rested his head on Roger’s shoulder, sighing softly. “I’m tired.”

                 “Yeah?” Roger asked, “you feeling okay otherwise?”

                 “Yeah,” Mark nodded, rubbing his side, “my side hurts a bit though.”

                 “I’m sorry…” Roger mumbled, biting his lip, “does it sting or something?”

                 “IT just kinda feels like I’m being stabbed.” Mark shrugged, “I don’t know.”

                 “Oh… We can go to the doctor when we get back to New York.” Roger offered.

                 “No, no, I’ll be okay. I promise.” Mark nodded, smiling as happily as he could.

                 The wedding was beautiful; Mark’s aunts had written each other amazing vows and had a cute little thing with flower petals where they tossed them over each other before they kissed.

                 Soon enough, Mark and Roger were back at the hotel, packing their stuff up. Mark hadn’t felt up to the reception, and had said quick goodbyes to his aunts before they left.

                 The two boys were packing, but Mark kept sitting down to take breaks. He sighed softly, closing his eyes as he laid back on the bed.

                 “I think I’m gonna go see my brother again tonight,” Roger commented, “say bye to him once more.”

                 “I’ll come with,” Mark nodded.

                 “are you sure?” Roger asked, “I don’t want you to get sicker.”

                 No, no, I’ll be okay, I promise.” He smiled reassuringly.

                 They changed into comfier clothing before heading back to Ben’s house. When they got in, Roger went right back to the computer and started playing the music Ben had recorded, giving feedback and changing a few things as he listened. Mark sat on the couch, looking tired as hell.

                 After a little while, Ben looked at Mark and said, “c’mon.”

                 Mark blinked in surprise, but got up and followed him upstairs.

                 Ben lead Mark back to the room he’d been in at the beginning of their trip. Mark sat on the bed and watched as Ben dug through a box, finally pulling out a large binder. He walked over to Mark and sat next to him,

                 “Open it,” Ben said, gesturing to it.

                 Mark opened it and looked at it in surprise, it was filled with pictures of Roger from his childhood.

                 He flipped through it, taking a moment every now and then to breathe.

                 Finally, Ben left the room and came back with two pills and some water. “Here.” He said, “take these. They’ll help keep you awake.”

                 “What are they?” Mark asked, looking at them cautiously.

                 “Just something to help you stay awake.” Ben shrugged, “trust me, they’ll help.”

                 Mark was reluctant, but finally assumed that they were caffeine pills. He took them and the water, swallowing them easily. Mark set the cup down and kept looking through the book—and once he was done with that one, Ben pulled out another and a few other things of Roger’s. Including some old mixtapes and some of his old journals and sketchbooks. Mark looked through them all, and after about half an hour, he felt jumpy and excited.

                 He set all of the books and binders aside and looked at Ben, “what did you give me? Those were caffeine pills, right?”

                 “More like Adderall.” Ben shrugged.

                 Mark’s eyes went wide, and he stared up at Ben, “wait—what?”

                 “You feel good now though, right?” Ben asked.

                 “Well… Yeah—but I—I um…” He trailed off, trying to think of a reason why this was bad.

                 But with his mind moving fast, Mark had a hard time coming up with any.

                 “I can give you the rest,” Ben offered, and Mark shook his head.

                 “No, no, I—I shouldn’t.”

                 Ben rolled his eyes and left, coming back with a pill bottle. He stuck it in Mark’s hand and shrugged, “use them whenever you need them.”

                 Mark stared at the unlabeled pill bottle, a bit scared at what this meant. But at the same time, he felt undeniably good, and couldn’t help but wonder if it would be worth it.

                 Mark nodded a little and stuck them in his backpack—deep in the bottom.

                 “There you go,” Ben smiled, “You can take those binders by the way.”

                 “Okay…” Mark nodded, looking down—already feeling a little ashamed of himself.


	16. Chapter 16

                 Mark couldn’t deny it, the few weeks that had passed since California had been stressful. And he’d taken a couple of the pills from the bottle Ben had given him. It was hard for him to admit, but they made him feel better. A lot better. Mark felt less lethargic and had more energy by the time he got home—and he had to admit, Roger and his sex life had never been better.

                 The two practically fell on top of each other the minute Mark got home, and though it confused Roger, he had no issue with it. That is, he had no issue with Mark’s new behaviour, he still didn’t know what was causing it.

                 Mark was at work, feeling tired as he grabbed a couple more pills out, swallowing them quickly without anyone noticing. Tonight was his and Roger’s date night, they were getting Chinese food and watching some old movies. So when Mark got off of work, he grabbed his stuff and noticed he was getting low on the pills. He shuffled his feet, considering what to do. It would be hard to get a prescription for them, but Mark had seen a couple of people lingering in alleys around the coffee shop, he figured he could get something from one of them.

                 Mark paused and thought about what he had just said to himself—in complete awe of it. HE shook his head and got his bag, then started to walk home. But as he walked, Mark increasingly felt itchy—not physically itchy, but the kind he felt whenever he was avoiding something he really wanted. An anxious itch.

                 Finally, as he walked, he noticed two people talking in an alley—one he knew for sure would have something for him. So, Mark went against his best judgement and went down the alley,

                 The guy looked at him in confusion.

                 “Yeah?” He asked.

                 “Look,” Mark said quickly, not making eye contact, “I need something and I—it’s easier to go through you.”

                 The guy nodded slowly and crossed his arms, “is that so?”

                 “Yeah.” Mark looked up at him, “I um—I need Adderall.”

                 He felt so dumb and cheesy for doing this.

                 The guy laughed, “just Adderall? You don’t want something more fun?”

                 “No,” Mark said flatly, looking at him—definitely seeming disappointed in himself, “just… Can you get it?”

                 “Yeah,” the guy nodded, “come back tomorrow. Cash, got it?”

                 “Yeah,” Mark nodded, and left. He went home and was ready to kick himself, almost about to say that he should quit it when Roger caught his attention.

                 “Hey babe,” Roger smiled as he went over to Mark, kissing his cheek.

                 “Hey,” Mark smiled a little, “how’re you?”

                 “Great,” he smiled, “food’s on the way.”

                 Mark nodded a little and took his backpack off, dropping it to the floor.

                 He almost blurt it out—almost told Roger what he was doing, but he stopped himself, his hands clenched tightly as he stared at his boyfriend.

                 “You okay?” Roger asked, raising an eyebrow as he took Mark’s hands in his own.

                 “Yeah,” Mark nodded, “just um… Had a rough day.” He loosened his hands and ran them through Roger’s hair, “just a rough day.”

                   “I’m sorry,” Roger frowned a little and lead Mark into the living room, “if you want we can talk about it.”

                 “No, no,” Mark shook his head, “it’s okay—I’ll get over it.”

                 “Okay,” Roger nodded a bit and kissed the top of his head.

                 Roger sat next to him and wrapped his arms around Mark’s shoulders, and after a moment, Mark climbed onto Roger’s lap.

                 How long till the food shows up?” He asked, nipping lightly at Roger’s jaw.

                 Roger blushed lightly and laughed softly, “Aren’t you tired from this morning?”

                 “No,” Mark shook his head, “unless... Are you?”

                 “No,” Roger smirked, “I’m just surprised that you’re so… Ready to go.”

                 Mark shrugged a little and pressed hot kisses against Roger’s neck, his hands trailing down his wide chest to the top of his sweatpants.

                 Roger’s eyes fluttered shut and his back arched, his hips moving a bit as Mark’s hand went past the waistband and gripped him.

                 “ _Fuck_ ,” Roger spoke softly his hands tangling in Mark’s hair.

                 Mark smirked and kissed him, his other hand tangling in Roger’s hair and tugging lightly.

                 Roger gasped against his lips and bucked his hips, shuddering a bit as Mark rolled his hips down.

                 “You’re g—gonna kill me,” Roger mumbled, breathing heavily as he as he wiggled a little.

                 “Yeah?” Mark smirked, licking a strip up past his Adam’s apple.

                 Roger’s eyelids fluttered closed, his voice growing rough. “Fuck. Get a condom.”

                 “Is that an order?” Mark asked, pulling back to meet his eyes.

                 “An order, huh?” Roger asked, smirking. “Fuck yeah it is, baby.”

                 Mark smirked and let go of Roger, getting up and slowly sauntering to their room.

                 Roger groaned as he stripped, Mark came back, still fully clothed.

                 “You’re wearing _way_ too many clothes,” Roger muttered as he tugged Mark down and kissed him hard.

                 Mark handed him the condom and took his other hand, pressing it against his throat. Roger pulled back a bit and smirked.

                 “Oh?” He asked, eyeing where Mark had placed his hand.

                 “Yeah,” Mark blushed lightly.

                 “Lay down.” Roger ordered, “strip/.”

                 Mark did as he was told, smirking as he laid next to Roger, who had let go of his neck.

                 There was a buz and Roger quickly put on his pants. “I’ll be right back.” You stay.” He ordered and left the apartment, returning a few moments later with their food, which he carelessly tossed onto the counter before returning to Mark, climbing over the small man as he pressed kisses down his neck and chest, glancing up at him through his eyelashes.

                 Mark inhaled shakily and took Roger’s hand, putting it back on his throat—applying a little bit of pressure. Roger took the hint and held it there, keeping the pressure consistent. He kissed down to Marks’s hips, his other hand lightly running up the insides.

                 “Fuck…” Mark whined, pouting as he arched his back, “I—ugh, _please_ , Roger, just touch me…”

                 Roger smirked and kept lightly tracing with his hand, applying a little more pressure to Mark’s neck.

                 “Beg for it.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Or three chapters

                 Some time passed, and Mark found himself falling deeper and deeper into his new addiction. Mark was in the middle of work, he’d just taken some of the pills not too long ago and was standing at the counter, tapping his fingers against it. His heart was beating fast, and he felt sick. Mark had to hold onto the counter so he couldn’t fall over, because he felt like he was ready to fall over. He was sweating pretty bad and was shaking a little harder than he usually did.

                 Mark frowned and closed his eyes, taking deep breaths. He ran his hands through his hair and took shaky breaths, his fingers tapping harder. Mark’s hands fumbled as he heard another barista take someone’s order. He started to get it ready, but kept dropping the cup. To the point where people started looking. The girl who was taking orders went over to him and gently touched his shoulder, making him jump, “uh, honey, why don’t you go take a break?”

                 “O—Okay…” Mark nodded, and looked at his hands, trying to keep them still.

                 He went into their breakroom and sat down, taking deep breaths—getting kinda mad with himself.

                 Mimi walked in, coming in early for her shift.

                 Hey Mark,” she smiled, “how’re…” She paused and and watched him, “uh, Mark, are you okay?”

                 “Yeah—yeah, I just uh—I um…” Tears started to well in the corners of his eyes, “yeah, I’m just having a bad day.” Mark nodded,

                 “Honey, what’s going on?” She asked, going over to him.

                 It’s nothing.” Mark shook his head, rubbing his eyes roughly. “It’s nothing, I swear—I’m fine.”

                 “Honey it doesn’t seem like you’re okay. I’ll talk to Jill and see if you can go home early, okay?” She asked, running her hand through Mark’s hair.

                 Yeah, yeah,” he nodded, jaw shaking.

                 “Okay,” she smiled a little and went to their boss’s office, talking with her quickly.

                 A minute or two later, she came back and helped Mark up, “She said to go home. You’re not in shape to be working right now.”

                 Okay,” Mark nodded and took off his apron, handing it over to Mimi, “thank you.”

                 “Of course, sweetie,” she smiled and put his apron on. “Go home and cuddle with Roger—that’ll help you feel better.”

                 “Thank you,” Mark smiled, biting his lip. He grabbed his backpack and went home, finding that Roger was out.

                 Mark sighed shakily and suddenly had a wave of tired, his breathing getting hard.

                 Mark went into his room and stripped, completely down and fell into bed, curling up tight with the blankets. He felt freezing.

                 Roger got home not too much later and found Mark—instantly having a bad feeling.

                 “Mark?” He asked as he went over to him, gently shaking him.

 “Mark, babe—wake up.”

                Mark whined and wiggled, shaking his head, “no…”

                 Yes,” Roger pressed, “you need to get dressed. I need you to get dressed, love.”

                 Mark pouted and rubbed is eyes, “I Feel awful.”

                 “We’re gonna go to the doctor.” Roger nodded, “c’mon, we’ll go right now.”

                 I don’t wanna go,” Mark mumbled, pouting.

                 “I know baby, but I need you to. Can you go to the doctor for me? Please?” Roger practically begged, his eyes wide with worry.

                 Mark watched him for a minute, then finally mumbled, “let me wear your hoodie?”

                 Of course, yeah,” he nodded, “of course, Mark.”

                 Roger tore his hoodie off and put it on Mark, then grabbed a pair of sweatpants that would fit Mark and put them on him.

                 The two started off towards the hospital, Roger not wasting any time with getting them a cab.

                 When they got there, Roger checked Mark into the ER, describing that he was fatigued as of late, and how he had been incredibly thirsty and shaky as well. Basically coming to the conclusion that Mark was sick with something. The nurses directed them to a quieter area of the waiting room, wehre Mark kept trying to fall asleep in one of the chairs.

                 “Hey—stay awake,” Roger gently tapped his face, having an awful feeling that Mark shouldn’t be asleep right now.

                 “No,” he mumbled, “I’m fine.”

                 “No you’re not, Mark.” Roger shifted, “c’mon, stay up. Tell me about work, what happened?”

                 “I kept dropping cups.” Mark said flatly, closing his eyes as he rested his head on the chair, “and Mimi came in and told me to leave.”

                 “How long were you home?”

                 A few hours.” Mark shrugged, ”sleeping. Like I want to right now.”

                 “I know, sweetheart,” Roger nodded and ran a hand through Mark’s hair. “I know love.”

                 Soon enough, a nurse called them in and started taking Mark’s vitals, finally coming overwith an IV.

                 Okay honey, we need to stick you and get some fluids going.”

                 “No,” Mark made a face and looked at Roger, “I don’t want to.’]                  Please, Mark,” Roger got up and took his hand, squeezing it gently. HE pressed a kiss to Mark’s forehead and played with his hair, “just focus on me, okay?”

                 Mark mumbled something, but watched Roger. He barely noticed the nurse who stuck him with the needle. She took a few blood samples and got him with some fluids. They lead him to a room and let him lie down.

                 “Try to keep him awake, okay?” The nurse asked Roger. “We’ll try to get these into the lab as quickly as possible.”

                 Thank you,” Roger smiled and kept holding Mark’s hand. “I’ll keep him awake if I can.”

                 “Good.” She smiled.

                 The nurse left them alone and let them talk.

                 Roger played with Mark’s hair and bit his lip, “She doesn’t think you’re doing too good either, baby.” Roger let Mark know, “she wants you to stay awake.”

                 “Okay…” Mark mumbled, pouting.

                 “Do you want me to call your dad?” Roger asked, biting his lip.

                 “No… Call Cindy.” Mark nodded, “I wanna talk to her.”

                 “Okay,” Roger smiled and called Mark’s sister, continuing to play with Mark’s hair as he listened to the phone ring.

                 Finally, she picked up.

                 “Hello?” She asked.

                 “Hey, Cindy—it’s Roger.” He said softly, “Mark’s in the hospital. Something’s wrong with him.”

                 “Oh man,” she sighed, shaking her head, “what’s going on?”

                 “they don’t know yet,” Roger shook his head, “but um—Mark wants to talk to you. Try to keep him awake, I’ll do what I can but just keep him talking, okay?”

                 “Okay,” Cindy nodded, sounding a bit confused.

                 Roger handed the phone over to Mark, who took it and sighed, “ _Cindyyyyyy_.”

                 “Yeah, Mark?” She asked, “what’s going on?”

                 “I feel _so_ dizzy. Everything keeps moving.”

                 “Are you laying down?” She asked, concerned.

                 “Yeah! I’m at the hospital, Cindy. Of course I’m lying down.” Mark shrugged, “What else would they have me do?”

                 “I don’t know—Mark, you sound funny, are you sure you’re taking all of your meds and stuff?” She asked.

                 “ _Psht_ ,” Mark rolled his eyes, “I haven’t been taking those since I was a teenager, Cindy.”

                 “Mzrk, you’re still a teenager.” Cindy informed him.

                 Mark blinked and thought about it, then quietly sid, “oh… Okay, maybe not in a few days then.”

                 “ _Mark_.” She said harshly, “you march your ass home right now and take your medicine.”

                 I Can’t! I’m hooked up to an IV Cindy, and it’s so itchy.” He pouted, “I’m just… Gonna go to sleep…”

                 “Mark!” She shouted, making him jump a little.

                 What?” Mark scoffed, “I was sleeping.”

                 “Look at Roger.” She told him.

                 Mark rolled his eyes and looked at Roger. “Okay, I’m looking at him.”

                 “Tell me what you love about him. Start with what you see. Then go deeper.”

                 Mark’s face contorted in thought, finally he spoke. “His hair.” Mark nodded, “his hair is soft and long—but not gross long like Greg’s used to be. It’s… Nice. It’s always got paint in it and I love that. I like seeing him covered in paint.”

                 Roger blushed a little, but smiled, and kept playing with his hair.

                 “Fuck, he’s giving me that look.” Mark whined, “the look that makes me feel stuff.”

                 There was a laugh from the other end, and Roger laughed as well.

                 “What kind of look Is that, Mark?” She asked.

                 “Like… He loves me. A lot. It makes me feel warm.” Mark nodded, “and…” He trailed off, getting pale.

                 Roger had a feeling, and instantly grabbed the trash. Mark started to throw up—dropping the phone to the ground.

                 “Mark?” Cindy asked, “Mark?”

                 “It’s okay,” Roger quickly picked it up and rubbed Mark’s back, “he’s just throwing up.”

                 “How is that okay?” Cindy asked.

                 “I think he’s a little dehydrated.” Roger said,. “He seems like he’s dehydrated.”

                 Oh…” She mumbled, W”ell, he better just be dehydrated, Davis. Dad isn’t gonna be happy when I tell him about this.”

                 “Uh, your dad’s gonna want us to come and stay with him after he hears about this.” Roger pointed out. Cindy grew quiet.

                 “You’ve got a point.” She mumbled, “okay, okay, fine.”

                 Mark stopped after a few minutes and laid down, squeezing his eyes shut, “I feel awful.”

                 Um… Cindy, I’m gonna call you back…” Roger mumbled and hung up, he shifted closer to the bed and played with Mark’s hair.

                 “I Don’t wanna sleep,” Mark whined, “can you cuddle?”

                 “Yeah…” Roger nodded and carefully climbed on the small bed with him, letting Mark lay across his chest. Mark’s breathing seemed to even out a bit, his hands grabbed Roger’s shirt and clutched it tight.

                 “You’re okay baby...” Roger soothed, “I promise. You’re gonna be okay.’

                 “I don’t know,”” Mark whined softly, pouting a bit as he nuzzled into Roger’s neck, “I feel like I’m dying.”

                 “I know, “ Roger sighed softly, “just keep talking, okay? If you need to throw up, let me know.”

                 About thirty minutes later a nurse came in with two cups.

                 “So… Good news and bad news.” She handed Roger a cup and handed Mark a cup as she sat on a chair next to Mark’s bed.

                 Roger toyed with Mark’s hair as he watched her, “good news?”

                 “We figured out why Mark feels so poor,” she smiled, then bit her lip, “drink that please.”

                 “I don’t want to,” Mark shook his head, “I need you to.” She told him, and then a few ore nurses came in with a new IV and a different bag of fluid.

                 “What’s that?” Roger asked, getting nervous.

                 It’s okay,” the nurse reassured him, Mark finally drank the cup of soda he’d been given.

                 “Mark, your blood sugar dropped to 60.” She looked at him.

                 “Fuck,” Roger mumbled, “shit…”

                 Yeah,” The nurse nodded, “to put it lightly, yeah.”

                 “What does that mean?” Mark asked, looking between them.

                 “I should’ve known it—my dad was diabetic.” Roger huffed.

                 “It’s hard to see the signs sometimes,” the nurse shrugged.

                 “What’s going on?” Mark pouted, his eyes getting watery.

                 “Honey… We think you’re diabetic.” The nurse took Mark’s hand, making him look at her.

                 “Oh…” Mark bit his lip, nodding slowly, “um, “what does that mean?”

                 “It means that your pancreas isn’t creating insulin for your body.” She explained, “your body right now doesn’t have enough sugar in it—that’s why I gave you the soda. We’re gonna see if that can raise your blood sugar.”

                 Mark nodded slowly and bit his lip, “oh… So… Wait—what?”

                 “It’s okay,” she shook her head, “just keep drinking. Once you finish that we’ll give you some water.”

                 “Okay…” Mark mumbled and drank the rest of his soda—it had only been a small amount.

                 “We’re gonna check you into the hospital, okay? We need to watch your sugars and make sure you’re stable,” she explained, looking at Roger. “You’ll probably wanna go home and pick up some stuff for him, we’ll be moving him pretty quick so you can go now.”

                 “I’ll just call his sister,” Roger shook his head, “I don’t wanna leave him.”

                 “Okay,” she nodded, “give her a call and we’ll be back soon.”

                 She got up and left, letting the other nurses give Mark a new IV for insulin.

                 As promised, they moved Mark to the ICU pretty quickly. Roger had called Cindy and she came over to the hospital to get their keys, then went to the loft and picked up some clothes and books for Mark, as well as for Roger.

                 Mark kept begging Roger to sleep next to him, but he wanted to give Mark space, so instead, he slept in a chair next to the bed, with his head resting against Mark’s leg as he held his hand. Cindy came in when Mark was awake, but Roger was passed out.

                 “Hey,” she said softly, “what’s going on?”

                 “I have diabetes, I guess,” Mark shrugged, looking down at his IV’s.

                 His sugar had come up to 100, so there had been improvement.

                 “I mean, I know grandpa had it, but mom didn’t so I thought the streak was over.” He sighed, shrugging.

                 “It might be skipping a generation now,” Cindy shrugged.

                 “Yeah…” Mark sighed, tangling his free hand in Roger’s hair. “I scared the shit out of him.”

                 “You scared the shit out of me,” Cindy remarked, “you were so loopy, Mark.”

                 Mark blushed a little and shrugged, “I didn’t feel good. I still don’t feel too great.”

                 “I know,” Cindy nodded, “just… Try to focus on your health. You’re going through a lot right now.”

                 Mark thought about it and nodded, biting his lip, “yeah, yeah, I am.”

                 “I’ll be back tomorrow with dad, okay?” She smiled and patted his shoulder, “just get some rest.”

                 “Okay.” Mark nodded, and laid back, “can you turn the lights off?”

                 “Yeah,” she smiled and kissed his cheek, then turned the lights off and left, closing the door behind her.

                 At that moment, Mark decided that he was done pulling his stupid shit. He would get rid of all his pills and start taking the right ones again. He knew it would be hard to get on track again, but he would do it. He knew he could.


	18. Chapter 18

                A few days later, Mark was out of the hospital with new medicines and instructions for life. And while it felt overwhelming, Mark felt like he had control over his life now. Even if he had a new diagnosis that wasn’t good. He felt like he could be in charge of himself and really get on top of his behaviours and make sure he was doing what was good for himself.

                Little did he know that it wouldn’t be that easy. The first month was simple. Mark took care of himself incredibly well, he was focused on checking his blood sugar before every meal and always took insulin on time—but slowly, Mark realized that he didn’t have the will to do any of it anymore. He started reverting back to how he used to feel—like there was no point for his life, like all of it was a waste. Roger noticed but didn’t know what to do about it.

                There was a lot of stuff that Mark had to learn and come to terms with, and Roger could tell that he wasn’t ready for that. Nowhere near ready. Mark felt so constantly stressed that he didn’t see a point in taking care of himself. So he stopped, Much to Roger’s dismay.

                Mark was at work, taking deep breaths as he tried to fight off the feeling of getting sick. Recently, Mark had realized how much he hated being a barista, and he decided that he’d quit soon. Once he got another job set up, he’d quit. Easy as that.

                But as his quality of life started to deteriorate, Mark’s will to live was declining. He stopped caring if he felt okay, he let himself feel like shit because it was simpler than working hard to feel somewhat okay.

                Roger hated seeing him like that.

                Mark came home from work, tired and groggy—things had been hard since he’d quit the Adderall. But as he stood outside of the apartment, Mark turned the unlabeled pill bottle in his hand—and decided that taking two wouldn’t hurt. Quickly gulping them down, he walked into the apartment and set his backpack down, stripping as he walked to the bathroom. Mark dropped his dirty clothes in the hamper and got into the shower, sighing as he let the hot water drip down his body. Taking deep breaths, Mark waited for that good feeling to wash over him, his mind focused on how his body felt—which, right now, was like shit. Mark didn’t feel great at all, but knew it wouldn’t be long before he did.

                “Babe?” The door opened and Roger poked his head in, “you okay?”

                “What?” Mark asked, poking his head out of the shower curtain. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

                “Good,” Roger smiled, “I’ll um—I’ll let you shower.”

                He was about to leave when Mark had an idea, “hold on.”

                Roger paused and looked back at him, “yeah?”

                Come here,” Mark smiled and gestured for him to come into the shower.

                Roger laughed a little and shrugged, walking into the bathroom. “You want me to get into the shower with you?”

                Yeah,” Mark grinned, wiggling a bit. “It’ll be fun.”

                “I’m okay, I showered today already.” Roger laughed softly and kissed Mark, who was pouting.

                “Fineeeee,” Mark rolled his eyes and went back into the shower, thinking a bit as he tried to figure out a way to get close to Roger.

                Roger left the bathroom, and after a few more minutes, Mark got out and put a t-shirt on along with some boxers. He went out to Roger, his hair dripping wet as he walked into his studio—sneakily grabbing a tube of cheap paint that he knew Roger wouldn’t miss.

                “How was your day?” Roger asked, squirting out some paint onto his palette.

                “It was okay,” Roger shrugged, and squeezed some of the bright green paint out onto his hand.

                I’m glad to hear that,” Roger smiled a little, glancing over at Mark, who held the tube of paint behind his back.

                “Mhm,” Mark smiled and gently pulled him close, having tossed the tube of paint onto the counter behind him. He kissed Roger deeply, making it intense and passionate so he wouldn’t notice the cool feel of the paint against his neck as Mark wrapped his arm around Roger’s neck.

                Roger kissed him but pulled back quickly, gently touching the cool spot on his neck. Heb linked in surprise when he saw the paint.

                “Oh…” He mumbled softly, thinking he just got a little on himself.

                Roger grabbed a towel and wiped his neck, then tossed the towel back down onto the counter. Mark bit his lip and kissed him again—cupping his face in his hands. Roger pulled back and touched his cheek—then saw Mark’s hand.

                “Oh,” he laughed, looking at Mark’s hand, “is that so?” Roger asked as he grabbed a can of paint and dipped his hand in it. “You wanna play it like that, baby?”

                Maybe,” Mark grinned and swiped his finger in the paint that Roger had just put out—gently tapping Roger’s nose with a dollop of the paint.

                He laughed and kissed Mark again, his hand going up under Mark’s shirt—smearing the paint along his side. Mark squeaked against his lips, not used to the cool of the paint.

                “Hey!” He laughed, grinning cutely, “what was that for/”

                “Just making it even,” Roger smirked, shrugging as he reached out and lightly traced Mark’s jaw—leaving a trail of light blue behind. Mark bit his lip and looked around, quickly grabbing a red tube of paint, and got some onto his hand—gently patting it against Roger’s face.

                The older man laughed and shook his head, “oh—you’re in for it.”

                Mark laughed and rushed out of his studio space, but that didn’t stop Roger from chasing after him—crashing into his body as he gripped Mark’s hips, kissing him roughly.

                Mark giggled against his lips and wiggled, his hands tangling in Roger’s hair as he lifted him up and onto the back of the couch.

                “And you just showered,” Roger tsked, barely pulling back to speak against Mark’s lips.

                “I guess you’ll have to shower with me now,” Mark grinned and bit Roger’s lower lip, gently tugging on it as he rocked his hips against Roger’s.

                Roger’s eyes fluttered shut as he laughed softly, “I guess I do.”

                “I like you covered in paint, y’know?” Mark grinned, gently wiping his thumb across the top of Roger’s eyebrow, leaving another smear of green paint.

                “Yeah?” Roger asked as he pressed kisses to Mark’s neck.

                “Mhm,” Mark hummed happily, his hands going into Roger’s hair—mixing it into a partly green, partly light blue mixture.

                “How much?” Roger asked, his hands travelling up Mark’s chest.

                “ _So_ much,” he laughed, shuddering a little as he arched his back—bringing Roger’s hands closer to his body.

                “Good to know,” Roger grinned as he nipped at Mark’s earlobe.

                Mark inhaled sharply and tugged his shirt off, taking Roger’s hands and pressing them against his chest—almost making him dig his nails in. Roger sucked dark marks into his neck, grinning against his skin as he pulled his own shirt off.

                He dropped it to the ground and kissed Mark hard, then pulled back enough to meet his eyes, “I guess we should go shower.”

                “I guess so,” Mark smirked and kissed him, hopping down from the couch, and pressed against Roger—making it so all the paint from his chest got onto Roger.

                The older man laughed and shook his head, tugging Mark back to the bathroom, the two got into the shower and Mark started to get shaky, the medicine finally kicking in. They got into the shower and Mark pressed Roger against the wall, running his hands down his sides lightly.

                Roger moaned softly and flipped them, his hips pressing Mark against the wall.

                Mark whined and wiggled, pouting as he tangled his hands in Roger’s hair again.

                Roger pulled back a bit and smirked, biting his lip, “y’know, we better get this paint off before it dries.”

                “I know,” Mark whined, wiggling his hips, “promise we’ll do something after though?”

                “Mhm,” Roger nodded, kissing along his jaw.

                He grabbed the body wash and started to wash Mark off, watching the colors go down the drain.

 

 

                A few hours later, they were lying in bed, Mark was breathing heavily—very hot as he pushed the sheets off of him, “can you please get me some water?”

                “Sure,” Roger nodded, biting his lip as he reached over and kissed Mark’s cheek, “did you take your insulin today?”

                Mark grew quiet and looked at the window.

                “Mark?” Roger asked, “did you?”

                “No…” Mark mumbled, curling up.

                Roger sighed and bit his lip, “babe—you need to. It’s your _health_.”

                Mark shrugged and hid his face in a pillow, his voice muffled, “I don’t care.”

                “I care,” Roger huffed, then went and got him some water. He came back and handed it to Mark, who had sat up.

                “But I don’t care,” Mark shook his head, “so what if I die?”

                Roger blinked and looked at Mark, he knelt onto the bed and ooked at Mark, “so what if you die?”

                “Yeah,” Mark mumbled, looking away from Roger.

                “Mark… Have you been taking your meds?”

                 “Yeah,” Mark rolled his eyes, “So what if I don’t wanna be alive? It’s not like it matters.”

                “Uh, yes it does matter.” Roger huffed, “I care if you’re alive, Mark. I care if you’re healthy and okay.”

                “But—“ Mark started.

                “No!“ Roger cut him off, “no, Mark, no. You’re staying alive and that’s that.”

                Mark mumbled something and took a drink of his water, then set the cup down and curled up on the bed.

                Roger sighed and got into bed, pulling Mark against his chest as he hugged him tightly.

                “I need you alive, Mark,” Roger said softly. “I don’t… I don’t know if you know, but you mean _so_ much to me. If you weren’t here I’d…” He trailed off, then shook his head, “I can’t think of what I’d do without you. You mean the world to me.”

                Mark stayed quiet, pouting a bit as he sighed shakily, rubbing his eyes.

                “Can you please take your insulin?” Roger asked, “at least your daily one?” His fingers traced over Mark’s ribs.

                “Fine…” Mark mumbled and got up, he went to his bag and grabbed the pen he used for every day (rather than the one he took before every meal) and gave himself the right amount of units, tossing it back into his bag before he went back to Roger.

                “Happy?” Mark asked.

                “Very,” Roger nodded, “thank you.”

                Mark sighed and fell back into bed. “I fucking hate this.”

                “I know…” Roger tailed off and played with Mark’s hair.

                I hate it. It makes me feel like I failed.” Mark confessed, his voice soft.

                You didn’t fail, Mark. This is a hereditary thing. You couldn’t stop it.” Roger shook his head, scooting closer.

                “Yeah but… I’m sure I could’ve done something. I mean—I could’ve stopped eating—“

                No,” Roger stopped him, “Mark, you barely eat. If you took away whatever you’re about to say, you’d be eating even less than what you already are. And by skipping meals you’re making it worse. You’re hurting your body by doing this crap to yourself.”

                Mark grew quiet and shrugged, “I just don’t get why I have to have it.”

                Roger sighed and shook his head, “Mark, if I could—I would gladly take it. I’d rather have this than you, but I can’t change that. And I’m sorry. Because I know it’d make you feel better if you didn’t have this, but you can’t stop it. You couldn’t make this not happen. It was going to either way. No matter what.”

                Mark closed his eyes and sighed, nodding a little, “I know.”

                “I’m sorry,” Roger nodded and played with his hair, “I’m really sorry.”

                “It’s okay...” Mark mumbled and shrugged, “I’ll get used to it.”

                Roger nodded a bit and kissed Mark’s cheek, “we need to get some food in you, I know you didn’t eat breakfast today.”

                “Fine,” Mark mumbled and sat up, grabbing some clothes and putting them on.

                Roger put on some boxers and sweatpants, then went out to the kitchen, “we have ramen.”

                “Okay,” Mark nodded and came out with him, “Can I have some salami too?”

                “Yeah,” Roger smiled and went to the kitchen, grabbing him some fruit as well as the meat.

                “You’re a strange eater sometimes, but I’m glad you’re eating,” Roger nodded and handed him the food before he went and heated up some water to put the noodles in.

                “I know,” Mark blushed lightly and ate his grapes happily, looking out the window as he thought. After a minute, he decided to bring it up, “um—I wanna quit.”

                Roger blinked and turned around to look at Mark, “what?”

                “I wanna quit the coffee shop. But—I want to get a different job lined up first.”

                “Oh… Okay,” Roger nodded, “alright—just, make sure to save up at least three month’s rent before you quit. Okay?”

                 “Okay,” Mark nodded, smiling a little, “I’ve already got two months down so just another week or two and I’ll be good.”

                “Okay,” Roger smiled, walking over to him and pressing a kiss to his forehead, “I love you.”

                “I love you too,” Mark nodded and fed Roger a grape, which made him smile.

                “You’re cute.” He laughed and messed with Mark’s hair.

                “Thanks,” Mark smiled and watched him, “you’re cuter though.” He shrugged, eating his food as Roger returned to the water.

                “Oh, sure,” Roger smiled, shaking his head. “Sure.”

                “I’m being honest!” Mark laughed, shaking his head,

                “If you say so,” Roger grinned and winked.

                Mark smiled and suddenly felt himself getting shaky—he got up quickly and went to the fridge, grabbing their small jug of milk and took a few gulps of it.

                “Feeling shaky?” Roger guessed, knowing Mark’s look when he got that way.

                Yeah,” Mark nodded, touching his temples lightly, “and kinda dizzy.”

                “Go sit on the couch and keep eating, I’ll bring you your food.”

                “Okay…” Mark nodded and grabbed his small bowl of food, and went to the couch, laying down as he kept eating his grapes.

                Roger brought Mark his ramen when it was done and sat next to him while he ate.


	19. Chapter 19

               Mark sat in his room, sighing as he scrolled through pages of jobs on Craigslist--looking for something,  _ anything _ that would be better than what he was doing right now. But so far, there hadn’t been any luck.

               Roger had been showering when Mark got up, and he didn’t really want to get up to go bother him. So instead, he grabbed his computer and started looking for a job. In his search, he found three listings for an artist--all ones that applied to Roger, so he made sure to keep those bookmarked just in case he could get Roger some work.

               Just as his hopes were about to go out of the window, Mark saw a listing.

_ WANTED: TV CHANNEL INTERN, GREAT PAY, NO WEEKENDS _

               While it was barely descriptive, it intrigued Mark, so he clicked on it and read the post.

 

_ Buzzline is looking for several interns to help run the channel! Our studio is looking for bright, young individuals who want to work hard and get into the industry. Intern pay starts at $12 an hour, and an intern position lasts six months, at which point you’ll be considered for a permanent job… _

 

               The listing had some more details, including a phone number, email, and name to contact. Mark right away pulled up his resume and sent it in an email to the one provided, his heart skipping a few beats in excitement. Something about the listing felt good, and Mark couldn’t help but be hopeful.

               He smiled and got up, quickly getting dressed before he went out and started to make some breakfast for the both of them.

               Roger came out of the shower to find Mark in the middle of mixing some pancakes together.

               “Fancy,” he smiled a little, “what’s the occasion?”

               “Good luck for me to get a job,” Mark nodded, “there’s a position open at Buzzline and I just… Wouldn’t that be perfect for me, Roger?” He smiled, sighing happily, “I--I could start directing and actually get paid to do it, I mean--that’s my dream.”

               “Did you send in your resume?” Roger asked, going over to him, then wrapped his arms around his waist.

               “Yeah,” Mark smiled, “I think I was kinda ramble-y in my email, but I think it shows that I’m really right for the position.”

               “It sounds great,” Roger smiled and kissed his shoulders, “thanks for making breakfast.”

               “Of course,” Mark smiled and glanced at him, “go get dressed and I’ll have some ready for you by the time you come out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I know it's short, but I'm wondering--do y'all want the big thing to happen or have a little more before then? The big thing is hard to describe without giving it away but something major happens to Mark and it causes some issues, but I do have material for things before then. Either way, establishing Buzzline has to happen now, so it won't be for at least like... Three chapters that the big thing happens in, but let me know what you want!


	20. Chapter 20

               A few weeks later, Mark had an interview at Buzzline--and he was more than excited. He had gone out with Angel to get a nice fitting pair of pants and a nicer dress shirt. He was up and dressed long before Roger usually woke up, but he knew that Mark would be excited, so he set his alarm early (Mark of course had woken up before said alarm and was sitting in the kitchen, drinking coffee).

                Roger got up and walked out of their room, smiling when he saw Mark dressed all nicely, with his hair brushed up and his tie tied perfectly (or, as close as Mark could get it to be). He walked over and wrapped his arms around Mark’s middle, smiling as he pressed close to the younger man.

                “Good morning,” he hummed, kissing the back of his neck.

                “Good morning,” Mark smiled and wiggled a bit, sighing happily.

                “When’s your interview?”

                “At noon,” Mark nodded, setting his mug down. “I can’t wait for it.”

                “I bet you’re gonna get it,” Roger nodded as well, going to get himself a cup of coffee.

                “I’m trying not to get my hopes up,” Mark shook his head, then grinned a little, “but I think so.”

                “Do you want to do anything today?” Roger asked, biting his lip. “I mean, you’ve got the whole day off.”

                Mark smiled and shrugged, “I’ll think about it.”

 

                At noon, Mark showed up at Buzzline--a large building in the heart of New York. He tapped his fingers against his chest and looked at the doors, wanting desperately to go in--but at the same time, was too terrified to take another step. Someone walked past and nudged him towards the door, and after taking a deep breath, he walked inside.

                Right away it was insane, the building was buzzing with young people, all of them carrying papers and tablets, each of them working like their project was the most important of all.

                The receptionist tapped her desk, and looked up at Mark, “hi--who’re you here for?”

                “Oh--um,” Mark grabbed his phone and quickly scrolled through his email. “Um--Alexi Darling.”

                “You’re…” She typed something into the computer, then looked back at him, “Mark Cohen?”

                “Yeah,” Mark nodded and stuffed his phone back in his pocket, smiling kindly, “yeah.”

                “Okay, go to the left and there’ll be the elevators. Seventh floor, talk to the receptionist up there, she’ll get you all checked in.” She smiled a little as well, gesturing to the elevators.

                “Thank you,” Mark bit his lip and rushed over, following her directions.

 

                About an hour and a half later, Mark walked out of the building--holding a folder with all of the new information he’d need to start working there. He kept grinning as he walked home, trying to keep all of his excitement in until he was at home.

                As he walked in, Mark saw that Roger had cleaned up a bit and had set out flowers. Mark dropped his bag at the door and ran in just as Roger walked out of his room--he jumped onto him and kissed his cheeks, grinning from ear to ear as he held onto the folder.

                Roger almost fell back, but laughed as he steadied himself, “oh shit--did it go well?”

                “Yeah!” Mark grinned and kissed him hard, gripping his shirt tightly in his hands.

                He laughed a bit against Mark’s lips and pulled back, “you got it?”

                “I got it,” Mark nodded, biting his lip, “I--she--ugh, oh my god we got along _so_ well, Roger. And she’s the person I’m gonna be working for and I--I can’t believe it.” He laughed, kissing Roger’s cheeks, “I’m so excited.”

                “When do you start?” Roger asked, setting Mark down.

                “Two weeks,” Mark nodded, “but before then I’ve gotta go through this packet and do some training.”

                “Sounds about right,” Roger smiled, kissing his forehead, “I’m so proud of you.”

                Mark smiled and rested his head on Roger’s chest, holding him close, “I love you so much.”

                “I love you so much too,” Roger laughed softly and played with his hair, “are you happy that you’re done serving coffee?”

                “So happy,” Mark laughed too, grinning, “I’m so happy to be done there.”

                “Are you gonna call Mimi and tell her?” Roger ran his hand through Mark’s hair and bit his lip, “and Joanne?”

                “Of course I am,” Mark smiled and kissed the corners of Roger’s mouth, “just not right now though, I wanna spend some time with you.”

                “Sounds good to me,” Roger smiled and kissed him sweetly.


	21. Chapter 21

               Not before long, it was Roger’s birthday--and Mark was supposed to get off of work early to set up a party for him. But just as Mark was about to leave, Alexi came out of her office and tsked.

               “Excuse me, Mark, I need you to do something before you leave.” She tapped her toe as she spoke.

               “Oh, um--I actually kinda need to get going, I uh--it’s my boyfriend’s birthday and--”

               “I didn’t ask for your life story.” She snapped, “get your ass in here.”

               Mark blushed lightly and huffed, sighing as he went into her office.

  
  


               It was over three hours later when Mark got home--a flustered mess as he tried to quickly pull himself together. Thankfully, Roger wasn’t home yet--he’d been hanging out with Collins and Angel all day. But when he got home, Mimi, Joanne, and Maureen were waiting outside of the building.

               “Mark! Where were you?” Joanne asked, frowning.

               “My boss made me stay late,” he sighed, “I’m sorry--I know it’s awful.”

               “At least he’s not here yet,” Mimi shrugged.

               “Yeah…” Mark mumbled as he opened the door and went inside, the three ladies following closely behind.

               They got upstairs and started decorating instantly--Mark was cooking with Mimi’s help--the two working double time to get everything finished.

               As they worked, Mark’s phone went off.

               He groaned and answered it, “hello?”

               “Mark--it’s Alexi. I need you to come back in. That idiot Carla didn’t file these papers correctly.”

               “Um--I’m kinda in the middle of something...” Mark trailed off, “can I do it tomorrow?”

               Alexi groaned loudly, “fine. But I’m emailing you three documents that I need you to edit tonight.”

               “But--” Mark started.

               “ _ Tonight. _ ” Alexi repeated before hanging up.

               Mark sighed and stuck his phone in his pocket, quickly going to grab his computer. He brought it back into the kitchen and opened it up, starting to work on those documents while cooking. Joanne looked at Maureen, glancing at Mark as if to silently say that he was working too hard.

               Maureen shrugged and kept working, figuring that Mark knew what was best for himself.

               They had less than an hour, and by the time they were done decorating and cooking, Mark was only halfway done with the first document. 

               “Mark--honey, go put your computer away. He’ll be home any second.” Joanne ushered him.

               “I just need to get this one done.” Mark shook his head as he typed furiously, “just one more.”

               She sighed and looked at Mimi, hoping she’d step in to help Mark too.

               “Angel just texted me,” Mimi held up her phone, “they’re on their way. You can finish these later, Mark.”

               “How far away are they?” He asked, not looking away from his laptop.

               “About five minutes.” She sighed.

               “I can finish the first one--I know it.”

               She sighed again and shrugged, setting her phone down on the counter as she walked into the living room. Like Mark had said, he  _ did _ get the first document finished by the time Roger got home, though he had started to work on the next one as he walked in the door. But when he heard it open, Mark closed the computer and rushed over to Roger, pulling him into a tight hug--kissing his cheeks.

               “Happy Birthday!” He grinned, pulling back to meet Roger’s eyes.

               “Thanks,” Roger laughed softly and wrapped his arms around Mark’s waist, “you okay?”

               “What? Yeah,” Mark nodded, blushing lightly. “Why?”

               “You just seem a little tired,” Roger shrugged, “I just wanna make sure you’re alright.”

               “I’m okay,” Mark smiled reassuringly and kissed Roger.

               Roger held the kiss for a moment, then pulled back and smiled, quickly kissing his forehead before he let go and walked over to hug Joanne. Mark went and grabbed his computer, putting it back in their room. He took a moment to breathe, then thought of something. Although he wasn’t thrilled with the idea, he went to his bag and pulled out the pill bottle that he hated. Quickly downing a couple of pills, Mark stashed it back in his bag and went out to everyone again.

               The party went well, though for a while, Mark felt like he could doze off. But once the pills kicked in, he was ready and thrilled to be with everyone. But the night was over soon, and Mark helped make sure that everyone got home okay. Roger waited back in the living room as Mark closed the door, taking a deep breath before he turned back to his boyfriend.

               “You sure you’re alright?” Roger asked, biting his lip as he watched Mark walk back over, his hands shaking a bit as he sat down next to Roger.

               “Yeah,” Mark smiled, biting his lip. “So, birthday boy,” he grinned a little and shifted so he was a bit closer, “what else can I do to make your birthday special?”

               Roger blushed lightly and laughed, pulling Mark onto his lap, “come here.” He muttered as he pressed kisses to Mark’s jaw.

               Humming happily, Mark rocked his hips down against Roger’s, his hands trailing down his chest as he grinded against his boyfriend. Moaning shakily, Roger picked Mark up and took him to their room--depositing him onto the bed as he tore off his own shirt and started to work to get his pants off.

  
  


               Things were going great--just like normal. In the middle of their throes of passion, Mark started to feel dizzy, and he started hyperventilating. Roger paused and looked down at Mark, confusion spread across his face.

               “Babe are you okay?” Roger asked, his breathing heavy as he leaned over Mark.

               “Mhm,” Mark nodded quickly, and took a deep breath--holding it to make it seem like he was fine.

               Roger nodded slowly and started to move again, but something inside of Mark snapped and he suddenly felt hot tears rolling down his cheeks. He couldn’t hold his breath any longer and started to shake, his whole body vibrating as he clutched onto Roger, who stopped and moved to sit next to Mark.

               “Hey, hey, hey… What’s wrong?” Roger asked, smoothing Mark’s hair out.

               “I--I--” Mark started, his chest rising and falling sporadically.

               “Take deep breaths,” Roger said softly, laying down next to him again, “you’re okay--I promise. I’ve got you…”

               Roger wrapped his arms around Mark and held him close, Mark nuzzled into Roger’s chest and started to cry softly--he truly didn’t know what was going on.

               Being gentle, Roger played with Mark’s hair, whispering sweet things to him to help him calm down. About ten minutes passed before Mark took a deep breath and grew quiet.

               “What’s going on?” Roger asked sweetly, gently pulling Mark’s chin up to look at him.

               “I don’t know,” Mark replied honestly, shaking his head, “I just--I got overwhelmed and I started feeling…”

               “Started feeling what?” Roger bit his lip, watching Mark’s eyes.

               “Scared,” Mark admitted, “and I just--I couldn’t… I don’t know. It was too much.”

               Roger nodded a little and played with Mark’s hair, “well, you’re okay. I promise. Do you wanna go shower?”

               Mark shook his head, “I just wanna stay here with you.”

               He bit his lip and kissed Mark’s forehead, “okay baby.”

  
  


               The next day, Mark called in to work--which took a lot of convincing because Alexi wasn’t about to let him miss anything. But Roger ended up talking to her and explained that Mark was feeling rather overwhelmed and that he needed a day to himself.

               She seemed to accept it, though not willingly.

               That day, Mark was curled up in bed, trying to figure out what had caused him to panic--and how he could stop it from happening again.


	22. Chapter 22

               Another week had passed, and Mimi managed to convince Mark that he needed to go see a therapist (he’d told her about what had happened on Roger’s birthday). And so that’s where Mark sat, in the therapist’s office, sitting on his hands as he looked at the salt water fish tank. He stared at it, taking deep breaths to keep himself calm. 

               “Mark?” The man had come out, but he hadn’t quite caught Mark’s attention.

               Mark stared at the tank, looking more tired than he had the previous week. Since Mark had checked in, the therapist knew that the boy sitting in the waiting room (the only person sitting in the waiting room) had to be Mark. So he spoke up again.

               “Mark?” It caught him that time.

               Mark jumped and looked over at him, blushing a bit as he stood up and offered his hand, smiling shyly, “hi--sorry, I just… The fish are pretty.”

               “They are,” he smiled, “c’mon back.”

               The man lead Mark to a nicely lit, warm room with a couch and a desk. Mark sat on the couch and tapped his fingers against his chest. The man--who Mark knew to be named Robert, sat at the desk, picking up a legal pad and a pen before turning to him.

               “So, Mark--you uh, you told the receptionist you had some specific concerns you’d like to talk about?”

               “Yeah,” Mark nodded and bit his lip, glancing out the window, “yeah.”

               “What would those be?” He asked, pen at the ready.

               “Oh--um, I uh--okay, so, I’m trans,” Mark nodded a little and shuffled in his spot, “and when I was in high school some guys uh--well, this thing happened that’s awful and I know I should’ve reported it to the police, but it was just too hard and--”

               “Woah, woah, woah,” Robert laughed softly, smiling kindly, “hey, we don’t have to talk about anything you don’t wanna talk about. And you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. If you didn’t want to go to the police for what happened, that’s fine. No one here is gonna judge you for that.”

               Mark paused and seemed to consider it before he nodded a little, “thank you.”

               “So… There’s a bunch of paperwork stuff we have to do, but I think right now, it’d be best for you to just… Talk through what you’re dealing with.” Robert suggested, nodding a little.

               “Okay,” Mark nodded and sighed, “okay--so… I was like, sixteen, y’know? Dumb and young and I had come out to my family but my mom was making everyone act like they hated me for it even though they didn’t. Which hurt a lot, so I went in search of someone who would understand and…”

               Mark continued to tell him what had happened, going into detail about the little things they had done together and how hurt he had gotten when they all beat him up. He paused before continuing.

               “And um… Well, I--I didn’t really know what to do next, I felt so lost and my dad was having a hard time relating to me and what I was feeling, so… He just kinda let me do whatever. And um, well, after I got attacked, I got pregnant.” Mark bit his lip, nodding a little, “which was hard to deal with--cause uh, I found out because I was having a miscarriage. And it was the middle of the night in like--February, and there was a blizzard outside so I called my friend to see if she would just sit on the phone with me but uh--she came over and sat with me while I cried.”

               Mark swallowed hard, nodding a little, “it was rough.”

               “I can imagine,” Robert nodded, sighing softly, “but… Can I point something out to you?”

               “Sure,” Mark shrugged, his fingers tapping against his chest.

               “I think--to me, that that’s the worst thing someone could go through. A miscarriage is like… Nothing I’ve ever dealt with before. And the fact that you’ve made it through that? You’ve come out the other side of it and let it make you a better person shows to me that you’re a good person--you won’t give up or give in when things get hard. Which… Might be what’s causing some of your problems now.” Robert shrugged, “just a thought.”

               Mark thought about it and nodded slowly, then coughed shyly and bit his lip, “I um--I panicked while I was having sex with my boyfriend on his birthday. I didn’t tell him, but I um--I was just thinking about work and then suddenly I couldn’t stop thinking about when… That all happened and I just uh, I couldn’t… I don’t know--I couldn’t handle it, I guess. It was too much, too stressful. And so I started crying.”

               Robert nodded and bit his lip, “do you sometimes feel repulsed by sex? Like… One day you’re totally fine doing it and the next you want nothing to do with it?”

               “Yeah,” Mark nodded, biting his lip, “I don’t really get it.”

               “That’s a thing that happens to rape victims,” Robert nodded again, “sometimes you can even be obsessed with sex--but there’s always a time where you don’t want to even think about having it. It’s totally normal, Mark. It’s just something you’ve gotta work through. And when you start feeling or remembering those things--you have to tell your boyfriend. He’s your person--hell, you live with him. It’s really important that he knows what’s going on in your head.”

               “You’re right,” Mark sighed and shook his head, “I was just scared, I guess.”

               “Of what?” Robert asked--making Mark draw a blank.

               “I um… Well, uh--I… I don’t really know.” Mark admitted, “I guess I’m just scared of Roger thinking that I don’t want to have sex with him.”

               “Do you?”

               “I do--but… Maybe not right now.” Mark nodded.

               “Tell him that--it’s important that you do.” Robert smiled, “things get easier when we start working through them. Everything will be okay, Mark, you’ve just gotta trust that they will be.” 


	23. Chapter 23

               Things seemed to be going okay for a while, Mark had expressed his feelings to Roger, who totally understood and accepted that it might be a while before they do anything again.

               Mark was relieved to find that Roger didn’t seem to care too much about that--that he would rather have Mark comfortable than have sex. It was strange to him, but he was more than grateful for it. 

               But other things weren’t going that great. Mark was working double time now. Alexi had him running around from seven in the morning to nine at night. Sometimes Mark was lucky and got to leave at seven at night--but even then, he would be coming home with work to finish (and it usually made it so he fell asleep at midnight).

               And Roger couldn’t help but be worried about Mark’s behaviour, because he would get home and fall down in bed--barely able to change into pajamas before he passed out from how stressed he was. It was a little too much for Roger--he hated seeing Mark so exhausted. 

               The weekend came quickly, and Mark was curled up tight in bed. Roger came into the room after being up for about five hours, and gently ran his hand through Mark’s hair.

               “Hey babe…” He said softly, “you should get up so you can eat.”

               Mark sighed in his sleep and wiggled a little bit, shifting so he was closer to Roger’s body.

               “C’mon, baby,” Roger gently pulled him up and kissed his cheeks, “you’re gonna starve.”

               Mark whined and nuzzled into his neck, pouting as he whined, “I wanna sleep.”

               “I know, Mark,” he sighed, “but you need to eat as well.”

               He pouted and opened his eyes, “fine…”

               Roger smiled and kissed him, cupping his face in his hands. He held it for a moment, then pulled back, “I’ll make you pancakes.”

               Mark smiled a bit and nodded, “okay.”

               “You should shower though,” Roger nodded and ran his hand through Mark’s hair, “and we’ll cut your hair today too.”

               “Okay,” Mark nodded and kissed Roger again before he got up and shuffled to the bathroom, getting in the shower as Roger started to make him breakfast.

               A bit later, Mark came out of the bathroom--looking better than he had in the past few days. Mark sat down and happily ate his breakfast, humming as he ate.

               Roger sat next to him and rubbed his back, biting his lip as he watched him, “y’know… I think they’re working you too hard.”

               Mark shrugged a little and ate his food, not looking up.

               “They are, Mark,” Roger nodded, “babe, you come home and you’re too tired to even watch a movie.”

               Mark shrugged and bit his lip, “I don’t know--I just... I mean, this is my dream job--I just figured that it’ll be hard for a while before it’ll be easy.”

               “It shouldn’t be this hard though, Mark, you’re just an intern.” Roger pointed out, sighing as he played with Mark’s hair. 

               “Yeah…” Mark mumbled softly.

               “Just… See if you can get your workload lessened.” Roger suggested, sighing as he bit his lip.

               “Okay.” Mark nodded, “I will.”

               He finished up his breakfast and Roger got ready to cut his hair, cutting it a tad bit shorter than he usually did--making it so he could go a bit longer without getting his hair cut. Once it was done, Mark went to the bathroom and ran his hands through his hair--grinning cutely.

               “Thank you, love.” He smiled and kissed Roger’s cheek.

               “Let’s do something fun today,” Roger smiled and took Mark’s hands, squeezing them tightly.

               “Like what?” Mark asked, wrapping his arms around his neck.

                “Anything you wanna do,” Roger shrugged, smiling as he played with Mark’s hair.

               “Hm…” Mark mumbled, thinking, “I mean, our anniversary is next week--and it’s on Wednesday, so…” 

               “You probably won’t be home until midnight,” Roger nodded, shrugging, “so let’s celebrate today.”

               “Okay,” Mark smiled, “how about we go out to dinner and take a walk?”

               “Sounds good to me,” Roger smiled, “go get dressed, I’ll make reservations for us.”

               Mark grinned and kissed Roger hard, then went and got dressed.

  
  


               Their day was wonderful--the boys walked around the Village and took a subway to Central Park, where Mark filmed Roger a bunch. By the time they got home, they were both exhausted--but in the best way. Mark flopped on the couch and looked up at Roger.

               “Could you do something for me?” Mark asked, biting his lip.

               “Sure,” Roger nodded, running his hand through Mark’s hair, “what do you need?”

               “Could you play something? On your guitar?”

               Roger paused for a moment, thinking about what songs he knew before he nodded and kissed Mark’s forehead. He went and grabbed his guitar and sat next to Mark on the couch, starting to play a soft melody. Mark listened happily, his eyes slowly closing as he listened to Roger’s voice and the guitar. Soon enough, he drifted off; Roger finished the song and picked Mark up, carrying him into their room and tucking him in.


	24. Chapter 24

               Things only got harder from there. Mark’s workload didn’t decrease--and talking to Alexi about it made it worse. She’d purposely keep Mark at Buzzline for a few more hours each night, she’d let him come into work later, but that didn’t really make any difference. Mark still was working like crazy, and found that a few Adderall helped get him through the day--he had fallen asleep a few times at his desk. 

               But this of course, meant that things got harder in his life outside of work. Mark would get home and be too shaky and full of energy to fall asleep, which meant he would maybe get an hour or two of sleep each night--and then he’d wake up at eight in the morning and go to work, where he’d get drowsy and almost fall asleep, and then he’d pop a few pills and be back in business.

               Alexi noticed that he would get incredibly jumpy and focused after about noon, but she didn’t think about it too hard. She just assumed that Mark hit his groove at that time. But Roger noticed the difference--he couldn’t place what it was but he could tell that something was different with Mark. Which scared him. There was no simple explanation for Mark’s increased energy besides a river of coffee or something dangerous. Which Roger tried to push that idea away--he liked to think that Mark was smarter than that. But he wasn’t sure these days, because Mark was pretty strange lately.

               He seemed to be upset a lot of the time, when he got home it was always something small that seemed to piss him off. And he would be rather frustrated with himself every time he messed something up. Roger tried to tell him that it wasn’t that big of a deal if he accidentally put too many spaces in a document or if he forgot to start a new paragraph, but Mark acted like it was everything.

               Little did Roger know that Mark would get a bunch of shit from Alexi if he made mistakes like that, but even if Alexi got a little mad at him, Mark’s anger towards himself was much more and surpassed anything Alexi could or would say. And it scared Roger and their friends--who started seeing Mark less and less.

               Roger felt like he was almost losing Mark, and it scared him shitless. 

               This went on for months--nearly half a year before Mark finally decided that something was wrong.

               As much as he liked working at Buzzline, he was having difficulties finding a reason to keep going. He felt like he constantly was working and that that was that. There was no time for anything else--no time for Mark to do what he enjoyed, and it was killing him. He liked that he was getting paid quite a bit, but that didn’t matter when he found that his will to live was gone.

  
  


               Mark was sent home early one day--he’d fallen asleep in the middle of a meeting. And everything felt wrong as he walked home. When he walked into the apartment, he saw an envelope sticking out from the door, picking it up, Mark read the note saying that their rent was late. He groaned and went into the apartment--remembering that their rent was due over two weeks ago. And he’d forgotten to send the check to their landlord.

               He went and sat on the couch, putting his head in hands--starting to shake and cry. Roger wasn’t home, so he had time to be by himself and pull himself together. Something kept making his shoulders feel heavier, and suddenly Mark felt overwhelmed by everything that was going on. He took shaky breaths and his eyes welled with tears, his breathing became hard and laboured. 

               He got up, his hands shaking as he paced the apartment, Mark started to panic, his chest started to hurt, and Mark didn’t know what to do. He went to the kitchen and grabbed one of the bottles of liquor, downing it. Despite the bitter taste, he kept drinking it. Soon enough he felt warm and tired, he drank more than he should’ve, and soon felt dizzy. Mark put the cap back on and tried to put the bottle back on top of the fridge, but it rolled off and crashed to the floor.

               It spooked Mark, but he didn’t know what to do to clean it up, and started picking up the pieces, throwing them away--he wasn’t thinking clearly and tried to pick up all of the pieces, even the tiny ones. His fingers and palms were all cut up as he stumbled around, his vision getting spotty. 

               Mark groaned and tried to get up, but stumbled and fell onto the floor. He sighed and curled up, watching his hands as they stung in the alcohol.

               The door opened, and Roger came in--walking into the kitchen. He dropped the grocery bags when he saw Mark, his eyes growing wide.

               “Holy shit!” He picked Mark up and carried him into the bathroom, setting him down in the tub. “Okay--okay, um--fuck…” Roger hissed, trying to figure out where to start. “Can you get undressed, babe?”

               Mark mumbled something and looked away, huffing quietly.

               “ _ Babe _ .” Roger snapped, gently turning Mark’s head to look at him, “you need to get undressed. Arms up.” He shook his head and helped Mark get undressed, then ran a warm bath--hoping to get rid of the alcohol smell.

               Roger started washing out Mark’s small cuts and wrapped his hands up in bandages and band-aids. Mark sighed and closed his eyes, taking deep breaths as he settled into the warm water. 

               Once the bath was run, Roger left Mark and went and cleaned up the glass and booze on the floor. After he got it cleaned up, Roger went back into the bathroom and washed Mark’s hair, sighing softly as he helped Mark get cleaned up.

               “What’s going on, baby?” Roger asked, drying off Mark’s hair.

               “I got sent home early,” Mark mumbled, pouting.

               “Oh…” Roger nodded slowly, “well, um--hey, you needed a break.”

               “But I need to work,” Mark pouted, wiggling a little.

               “No, no, not as much as you have been,” he shook his head, “it’s not good for you.”

               “It’s fine,” Mark rolled his eyes, pouting.

               Roger huffed softly and shook his head, “c’mon, let’s get you in bed.”

               He helped Mark out and dried him off, then got him dressed in some fresh clothes, and into bed.

               Mark pouted and played with Roger’s hands, drawing shapes on his palms.

               “Why’d you drink?” Roger asked, sighing as he watched him.

               “Cause I felt like shit,” Mark mumbled, “and I don’t feel happy.”

               Roger frowned and played with Mark’s hair, “why don’t you feel happy?”

               “Cause of work,” Mark nodded, “I hate it.”

               He sighed softly and kissed Mark’s forehead, “I’m sorry, love.”

               Mark shrugged and curled up tight, closing his eyes, “I’m tired.”

               “Get some rest,” Roger kissed Mark’s forehead. “I love you.”

               “I love you too,” Mark mumbled, his eyes closing.


	25. Chapter 25

               Getting into work early, Mark set his stuff down on his desk--the two day break he had had really helped him clear his mind and decide that he was going to quit--or try to ask for less hours. Alexi wasn’t there yet, which was a relief to him. He sat down and started working, taking a deep breath as he finished writing up a few reports for her. Just as he was about to get up and print them, someone came up to his desk.

               “Mark?” She asked, smiling nicely.

               “Yeah?” Mark turned to look at her.

               “I’m Allie,” she held her hand out to him, “I’m from HR. Mind if we talk?”

               “Oh--sure,” Mark nodded a little and got up, smiling shyly.

               She lead him down the hall and started talking quickly, “so, you’ve been here for over six months--sorry that we were so late getting to you, we had some trouble with a few other interns who were fighting to get a spot here when they really didn’t deserve it so we were kinda busy trying to make it work with them and see if we could get their internships prolonged and… Yeah. But anyways, we’ve been really impressed with your work and well, we wanted to offer you a permanent position.”

               Allie held the door open to her office, grinning as she watched for Mark’s reaction.

               He blinked in surprise and opened his mouth to say something, then closed it and nodded a little, “I um… I was actually gonna ask something of you…”

               “We can discuss the details of your job for sure,” she smiled, and Mark went into her office.

               She followed him in and closed the door.

               “So Alexi has talked you up and we’re ready to offer you a raise and healthcare benefits, if that’s what you want.” Allie nodded, sitting at her desk.

               Mark sat in one of the seats across from her and nodded slowly, biting his lip, “can I um--can I work less hours?”

               “What do you mean, Mark?” Allie laughed softly, shuffling through her papers, “from Alexi’s reports you come in at nine and leave at five.”

               Mark blinked in surprise and shook his head, “um--no, uh, I’ve been coming in at seven and leaving at like… Nine.”

               Allie paused and thought about it, then clicked around on her computer and pulled up a spreadsheet of everyone’s hours, she searched a bit and found an edit that happened to Mark’s hours--done by Alexi, of course, to show that she wasn’t over working him.

               “Oh…” She mumbled softly, “um--okay, yeah, your hours shouldn’t be like that…” Allie trailed off as she looked at the edits Alexi had made.

               “Yeah, I uh--I thought it was kinda weird that no one noticed…” Mark mumbled, biting his lip.

               “Yeah, we’re gonna fix that.” She nodded and wrote a few things down, “look, I’m gonna have a talk with Alexi, and uh--y’know, I’m really not supposed to do this, but you can have the next week off if you want. Just… I know it doesn’t make up for her overworking you, but it could give you a week to relax and take some time to be with your family and just uh…”

               “Relax?” Mark laughed softly, blushing a little, “I um--I’d love to. Thank you.”

               “Okay honey,” she smiled, nodding, “Alexi’s probably gonna be on a brief time-out when you get back, and if she causes you any more issues, just let us know, okay?”

               “Okay,” Mark smiled, biting his lip, “thank you.”

               “Of course,” Allie nodded, “go on home and start your week--we’ll look forward to seeing you soon.”

               Mark smiled and nodded, getting up quickly to go and gather his things. 

  
  


               Mark got home and saw Roger painting, he smiled and quietly went over to him, wrapping his arms around his middle from behind.

               Roger jumped a little and turned around, looking at Mark, “what’re you doing home?”

               “I got a permanent job at Buzzline,” Mark smiled, biting his lip.

               “I thought you wanted to quit?” Roger asked, raising an eyebrow.

               “Well, I did, but apparently Alexi’s been changing my hours to show that they’re normal and not the crazy schedule she’s been having me do, but the person I talked to could see that she edited the spreadsheet.”

               “Oh,” Roger nodded and played with his hair, “so… You’re home?”

               “Yeah,” he smiled, “she let me go home and she’s letting me stay home for a week to make up for all the extra time I’ve worked.”

               “Oh!” He smiled and kissed Mark’s cheeks, “well that sounds good, baby.”

               “Yeah,” Mark grinned and kissed him, wrapping his arms around Roger’s neck.

               Roger smiled against his lips and picked him up, setting his paintbrush down and carried him to their room. He set him down on the bed and played with his hair.

               “You’re cute,” Roger smiled, biting his lip. “Really cute.”

               “You’re handsome,” Mark traced along his jaw, “very handsome.”

               He smiled and climbed into bed with Mark, wrapping his arms around his waist as he pulled him close. “So what’re we gonna do this week?”

               “Well, we have to pay the rent,” Mark nodded, “I’ve got a check written out and everything, we just need to get it to--”

               Roger groaned a little, “we have a new landlord.”

               “Wait--what?” Mark asked.

               “His name is Benny--I kinda know him.” Roger admitted.

               “How?” Mark asked, raising an eyebrow.

               “Well, I used to be his friend till he got married and became a minion of Mr. Grey.” Roger mumbled.

               “Grey like… The Westport Grey’s?” Mark guessed.

               “Yep,” Roger sighed, “they’re awful--and Benny is just a little lap dog of his father-in-law.” Roger shook his head, “it’s depressing.”

               “Sounds like it,” Mark sighed, shaking his head, “well, I’ll give it to him soon--and then maybe we should take a trip.”

               “Where to?” Roger asked, raising an eyebrow.

               “Well, my grandparents have a cabin up state, we could go there.” Mark shrugged, “for a few days at least.”

               “That sounds nice,” he smiled, biting his lip, “you should call them and ask.”

               “I will,” Mark smiled and kissed his cheeks, nuzzling into his neck, “I think you’d really like it there, there’s a lot of beautiful things to paint.”

               “Sounds like my kind of place,” Roger smiled, biting his lip as he kissed Mark’s forehead. 

  
  


               A few days later they were packing to go up state, and Benny was coming over to collect the rent. Mark was a little nervous for a few reasons, one, this was the first time that Roger would really see a place that Mark had grown up (since his dad’s house was a new house), and because he was nervous to meet Benny--who sounded kinda awful.

               Mark stuffed some more clothes in his backpack and zipped it up, smiling a bit as he watched Roger pack his paint supplies.

               “Almost ready?” Mark asked, biting his lip.

               “Yeah,” Roger smiled and glanced up at him, “we’ve still gotta wait for Benny y’know.”

               “Is he really as bad as you say he is?” Mark asked, playing with his hands.

               “He was when I saw him last. I can’t imagine that he’s gotten any better.” Roger shrugged, “but I’ll let you decide for yourself.”

               Mark nodded and played with his hands, biting his lip as he paced the apartment. About twenty minutes later (Roger was done packing by then), there was a knock at the door. A little too eager to get onto the road, Mark rushed and opened up the door, where he was greeted by Benny--looking pissed as he stuffed his phone back into his pocket.

               “The rent?” Benny asked.

               “Oh--yeah,” Mark nodded and went back into the apartment, sorting through a few things in their kitchen before he returned with an envelope that had a check inside.

               “Hey Roger.” Benny said flatly, opening the envelope to check that it was enough.

               “Hey,” Roger waved a bit and came up behind Mark, wrapping his arms around his middle.                                

               “Everything seems to be good,” Benny nodded, then glanced at the bags by Roger’s studio. “Where are you guys going?”

               “Up north,” Mark nodded, “my grandparent’s cabin.”

               Benny nodded slowly and shrugged, “have fun.”

               “Thanks,” Roger nodded, “see you next month.”

               “Or you could always drop it in the box downstairs,” Benny shrugged, “easier for me to pick it up that way.”

               “Oh, of course,” Mark nodded, trying to be as nice as he could be.

               Benny glanced between the two of them, then looked at Roger. “Couldn’t get someone your own age?”

               Mark frowned and stood up a little, “excuse me, I know you used to be friends with Roger, but you don’t get to be a dick to him just because you’re apart of some stuck up, asshole family now.”

               Benny blinked in surprise and looked at Mark, “huh.” He nodded slowly--actually a little impressed that Mark had stood up to him like that. He cracked a smile, “okay, okay, maybe I was wrong.”

               Mark grinned a little and nodded, “maybe you two just need to talk again--I know it’s pretty hard to get used to being apart of a new family, but that doesn’t mean you should drop your friends.”

               Roger smiled proudly and kissed the back of Mark’s neck, holding onto him tightly.

               Benny thought about it, then nodded, “I’ll see you next week for lunch then, I’ll call you.” He waved a little to Roger and then left.

               Mark closed the door and turned to Roger, grinning cutely as he wrapped his arms around Roger’s neck. 

               “I love you.” Roger smiled, kissing his cheeks.

               “I love you too,” Mark laughed lightly.

               A little bit later, the two got onto a subway that took them pretty close to Mark’s dad’s house, where they’d be borrowing one of his cars to drive the rest of the way. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is actually the longest fic I've written page wise (89 pages), but the longest rp I've done was like........... 350-ish and it was a RENT one so here's hoping we get somewhere near that


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short but I felt like adding something sweet

               They got to the cabin later than they had planned--there’d been a cute little town that they had decided to walk through before going to the cabin. It was almost midnight as they pulled into the parking spot outside the large house.

               Mark jumped out of the car and grabbed their bags, Roger following behind. His eyes grew wide as he looked at the house, which partially disappeared into the night. 

               “C’mon,” Mark smiled and ushered Roger into the home, turning the lights on once they were inside.

               The place was beautiful--though a bit old fashioned. It was obvious a grandma had decorated it if you know what I mean. The walls were floral print wallpaper with pictures of bears and babies in potted plants. There was a pile of very nice, collectable bears in the corner with a fireplace opposite it. There was white wicker furniture with fluffy, floral patterned cushions and pillows. And if that weren’t enough, there were shelves upon shelves of framed pictures of Mark and his sisters. Though Roger didn’t recognize Mark at first.

               As Mark took their bags to a room, Roger picked up one of the photos of Cindy and Mark, he could barely tell who was who. The one thing that gave it away was how sad Mark looked. He had long, strawberry blonde hair that reached his mid-back, and he was wearing a large baggy t-shirt with khaki shorts on underneath, his sister wore something similar, though her shirt was much more fitted. Mark frowned at the camera while Cindy grinned proudly, holding up a drawing she’d done of the lake outside.

               Another photo showed Mark with his grandpa--who was working on a car and Mark was handing him tools, a similar kind of baggy shirt and shorts. All of them were like this--Mark generally seeming unhappy unless he was with his dad or his grandpa. The worst photo though, was the one with him and his mom.

               Roger didn’t guess that it was his mom right away--she looked like him, but not as much as he looked like his dad. Mark was standing by her side, frowning as he wore a plaid dress and long pigtails. His mom beamed with pride as she gestured to Mark, who looked absolutely miserable. Cindy stood in the background, a little older and much happier than Mark.

               All of this was a lot to take it, and he couldn’t really believe it as he looked around. There was one last picture at the very end of one of the shelves, it was Mark, in a bathroom--Swiss Army Knife in hand as he cut off all of his hair. He wore a recognizable sweater, and his scarf hung loose around his neck. Almost all of his hair was in the sink, but it was the first time Mark looked happy in any of these pictures.

               And speaking of Mark, he came back into the room to find Roger--pausing when he saw him looking at the pictures.

               “They’re uh… Kinda spooky, huh?” Mark asked, wandering over to his boyfriend.

               “A little,” Roger nodded, biting his lip, “I uh, I couldn’t really recognize you in any but this one.” He held up the last picture, and Mark turned a light shade of pink.

               “Oh… Yeah…” He nodded and bit his lip, “well, um--c’mon, I wanna show you something.” Mark offered Roger a hand.

               He set down the picture and took Mark’s hand, letting him lead him outside to a large deck. Mark had set out a few blankets and lit some candles by the door, just for a little light. The two went and laid down on the deck, and with the lights turned off in the house--they could see every possible star. Thankfully it was a clear night, which meant a dusting of stars just about everywhere they could see. 

               Mark took Roger’s hand and squeezed it tightly, smiling and sighing happily as he watched a shooting star streak across the sky.

               “What’d you wish for?” Roger asked, glancing at Mark.

               “I’ve got everything I could ever wish for right here.”


	27. Chapter 27

               The week went by too fast, and Mark was back at work soon enough, and from what he was hearing, Alexi was on probation for what she’d done to Mark’s hours. Which meant she refused to look at him or even talk to him, if she wanted him to do something, an intern would come in and tell Mark that she needed him to do whatever it was. 

               Which worked out pretty well, because Mark felt like work was tolerable now. While it wasn’t the best, and he still didn’t really enjoy what he was specifically doing, it was much better than it was before. Mark’s goal was to write segments and reports for the show, not work on the behind-the-scenes paperwork that never made a difference to the show. Mark had been writing segments and had sent them into the head director, and was waiting for his feedback.

               Mark sat at his desk, re-writing a report that Alexi had fucked up. He sighed and sipped his coffee, the job was easy, but boring.

               The office was pretty quiet, something Mark was appreciating more than he usually did. Not before long, the day was over and Mark was headed home. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked down the street, bundled up in his jacket--it wasn’t necessarily cold, but brisk outside as fall approached.

               Going up into the apartment, Mark stretched and looked around, biting his lip as he thought about what they’d do that night. Now that he was getting home at a normal time, the two boys had started spending their nights doing fun things, going out and having dinner or going bowling. Little things like that. But Mark wasn’t sure what they would do that night, so he went to their room and found Roger curled up on the bed. 

               When Mark had gotten up, he knew that Roger hadn’t been feeling too hot, so it wasn’t a surprise to him that Roger was in bed. Mark went over and played with his hair, being gentle enough that it might wake him up, but if it didn’t, it was no big deal. But Roger’s eyes fluttered open, and he smiled a little when he saw Mark. 

               “Hey baby,” Mark smiled and kissed his forehead, “how’re you feeling?”

               “A bit better,” Roger nodded, stretching, “I’ve been asleep most of the day.”

               “Let’s get you up and eating something, okay?” Mark asked, playing with his hair,

               “Okay,” Roger sighed softly and sat up, “can I stay in bed? It’s warm.”

               “Of course,” Mark laughed a bit and kissed his cheek, “you’re adorable.”

               Roger groaned and rolled his eyes, “can I have some toast?”

               “Yeah,” he smiled and kissed Roger quickly before he went and made him some toast. “Did you check if you have a fever?” Mark asked loud enough for him to hear.

               “No,” Roger shook his head, “I will right now.”

               “No, no, stay put and I’ll bring it to you,” Mark shook his head.

               “Okay…” Roger nodded and settled in, pulling the blankets up nice and tight around himself.

               Mark came back and took Roger’s temp before letting him eat, he was happy to find that Roger only had a slight fever--nothing too drastic. 

               “It’s just cause it’s getting cold outside,” Roger shook his head, “it’ll go away soon.”

               “Just keep taking your AZT, okay?” Mark asked, biting his lip.

               “Yeah,” Roger smiled.

               Later on that night, Mark had fallen asleep in the living room while he’d been writing his script. 

  
  


_ He woke up and heard a crash, Mark sat up quickly and looked around, rubbing his eyes. _

_ “Roger?” He asked, getting up from the couch. _

_ No response. Mark bit his lip and slowly walked into their room and found Roger on the floor, his lips blue and his skin cold. His eyes grew wide and Mark fell to the floor, trying to pick him up--but kept dropping him. _

_ “Roger!” Mark shouted, “ROGER!” _

_ He shook Roger by his shoulders, starting to cry as he patted Roger’s cheeks--trying anything, desperate to make him wake up. But nothing worked. Darkness started to speckle in his eyesight as tears overwhelmed him. Mark was shaking as he fell over Roger’s body, gripping onto his shirt tightly as he begged for him to wake up. All of a sudden, Mark felt relief, as if everything that had ever hurt him was gone and going. He was standing up suddenly, staring at a girl, hanging in Roger’s room. He felt compelled to go to her. His feet carried him while his heart told him to stay behind.  _

_ His feet started to drag forward, he grabbed onto the door frame and dug his nails in. But the pull was too strong, he fell to the floor. Suddenly the girl looked up and stared at Mark, ready to reach out and-- _

  
  


               Mark sat up, gasping for air as his eyes flew open. His breathing was hard as he looked around the apartment. He quickly scrambled to his feet and ran into their room, relief washing over him when he saw Roger’s chest rising and falling. Practically running to the bed, Mark pulled Roger into a tight hug, quietly sobbing into his chest--terrified of what he’d seen. 

               “What’s wrong baby?” Roger asked groggily, sitting up a bit to play with Mark’s hair. 

               “Please don’t die,” Mark begged softly, gripping his shirt.

               He blinked in surprise and looked at him, holding onto him tighter, “woah, woah, woah--I’m not gonna die, Mark. Not for a while.”

               “Y--You’d better not.” Mark muttered, nuzzling into his neck.

               “I won’t.” He shook his head, “I promise.”


	28. Chapter 28

               While their home life was interesting, things seemed to be getting harder for both Mark and Roger. But Mark’s work was just taxing, it was boring and made him tired. Roger’s work, on the other hand, was in love with his work--but found himself in a rut. 

               Roger stared at the canvas, playing with the soft bristles of his paintbrush. It seemed like only when Mark was home that Roger could paint. He sighed and stared at the nice palette of colors he had set out, a vibrant, bright set of colors that made Roger excited. He dipped his paintbrush into a blue and went to paint it onto the canvas--his idea in mind. But when he went to do it, it was like the idea slipped from his fingers. He had no idea what he wanted to paint anymore. And while he wasn’t against abstract art, it wasn’t necessarily his forte. So he washed his paintbrush off and set it down on the table, then went to the living room and sat down. 

               He noticed something sticking out from the bottom of the couch and grabbed it--quickly realizing it was Mark’s thick script. Roger watched it for a moment before he opened it, reading a few pages of it.

 

_ TALIA and GEORGIA, two unsuspecting women worked on their chores, cleaning the small apartment together. _

_ TALIA: “Oh, love, what a beautiful day it is. May we go out? You always talk about the beach.” _

 

               Roger skipped a few pages, skimming over the dialogue of their argument. Finally, he reached the description of the beach.

 

_ Set across two white sandy mountains lies a small beach, the sand is overrun with tall grass and sea shells, which have spread up to where the girls have parked their car--far beyond the path’s end. They brought a yellow towel and they set it up along with a blue umbrella to keep the sun off of them. The water is blue--bluer than blue. It sparkles like a diamond, and the sky above is cloudy. It’s paradise to them. Large shells poke out of the sand, ready to be collected. The camera sweeps over a view of the shells and over to their towel, where TALIA lays in a modest swimsuit, watching GEORGIA swim. _

_ Over one of the hills a figure has appeared, and fallen to the ground. It’s LUCAS. He’s escaped and found their beach. GEORGIA sees him first. She runs from the water to go and-- _

 

               Roger sets down the script and thinks about it--trying to picture the beach as clearly as he can. Before he realizes it, he’s sitting at the canvas’ edge, painting the scene Mark had described, including some of his own ideas into it, such as a distant path of jagged rocks that go out far into the water. He painted soft footprints in the sand, as if someone had recently visited. He smiles as he paints, happy to have found a piece of Mark in their home that would never be gone.

  
  


               A few hours later, Mark came home and went to their room, changing into a warm sweater and sweatpants before he actually greeted Roger with a kiss.

               “Hey love,” Roger smiled, biting his lip in excitement.

               “Hi,” Mark smiled a little, “what do you want for dinner?”

               “Oh--I already made us some sandwiches--I um… I worked on something for you today,” Roger grinned, taking Mark’s hands.

               “You did?” Mark smiled a little, following his boyfriend. 

               “I did,” Roger nodded and pulled Mark to his painting of the beach.

               Mark blinked in surprise when he saw it, looking at each detail closely as he examined it.

               “It’s… The beach.” He nodded a little.

               “Mhm, from your script,” Roger nodded, squeezing his hands.

               Mark blinked and started to blush, “you--you read my script?”

               “A little,” Roger nodded, shrugging, “I had a hard time painting till I read it.”

               “Oh…” Mark nodded, thinking, his ears slowly turning red.

               “What?” Roger asked, raising an eyebrow.

               “I um… Well, if you wanted to paint something, you should’ve asked for one of my old scripts, my dad sent them all here.” Mark offered, letting go of Roger’s hands as he rushed to their room to get one of his many scripts.

               “Which one?” Roger asked, following him.

               “The one I first did, back in my freshman year of high school. It’s not great, but it’s got some really pretty scenes in it,” Mark shrugged, digging around.

               He finally extracted a thick script titled ‘ Dancing Shoes ’ and handed it to Roger.

               “What’s it about?” Roger asked, flipping through it.

               “It’s based off of the Twelve Dancing Princesses story,” Mark shrugged, smiling, “I uh--I was obsessed with fairytales when I was a kid.”

               “Ohhh,” Roger nodded a bit and smiled, offering Mark a hand up.

               “But there’s a room of flowers and a pavillion of gold and silver…” Mark trailed off, smiling, “I think you’ll like it.”

               “I’ll read it.” Roger smiled and kissed his cheek. “How was work?”

               “Boring,” Mark shrugged, sighing, “I guess I’m gonna hear back from that guy who I’ve been sending scripts to this week.”

               “Oh that’ll be good,” Roger smiled more and nudged Mark a bit.

               “Yeah,” Mark smiled and bit his lip, kissing Roger quick, “thanks for the beautiful painting.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey hi so I don't know if I'm gonna upload much tomorrow/possibly Monday. I'm in a hotel right now because my house is getting shown so I'm generally out doing a bunch of stuff but my friend called me today and told me that she has a brain tumor!!!!!!!!!!! and she lives an hour and a half away from the hotel I'm in so we've been spending time with her this weekend, hence the late night chapter. I'm going back to see her tomorrow and it's gonna be a long day otherwise so just please bear with me and pray (or think about or whatever your jam is) for my friend because i love her so much and i'm so scared that she's gonna get hurt in surgery or that something's gonna go wrong and that i'll lose her cause yeah im just i dont know the scariest thing thats ever happened like this was my old friend was in the hospital for a week cause she was dehydrated but thats like nothing compared to this so please send good waves to my girl she needs them all thank you


	29. Chapter 29

               The scripts that Mark had sent to the producer were dropped on his desk--the producer’s assistant leaning against the cubicle wall. Mark glanced up, surprised to see her.

               “Oh--hey, do you know if he read them?” Mark asked, grabbing them and flipping through the now, brightly noted scripts.

               “Oh he read them alright,” she nodded, biting her lip, “but um… I don’t think you’ll like the changes he made.”

               Mark skimmed the papers, frowning. “He… Took away all of my work. This isn’t even what I wrote anymore.”

               “Yeah…” She mumbled, “but uh, if you approve the changes he made, then he’d be more than happy to work with you and figure out some new content.”

               “What’s wrong with this stuff?” Mark asked, holding up the papers.

               She shrugged, crossing her arms, “I don’t know, Mark, whatever he doesn’t like he just crosses out and ignores. He said he liked your work but that it wasn’t ‘ready’ yet. He said he’d work with you on something entirely new if you let go of this lesbian story.”

               “But I’ve been working on it for years,” Mark blinked in surprise, looking down at the script.

               “I know, honey,” she sighed, “I know.”

               “He can’t be serious.” Mark shook his head, “no way.”

               “He is,” she bit her lip, “just… He wants to see you. Now. Right now.”

               “For what?” Mar scoffed, “he already fucked up my writing.”

               “He wants to negotiate with you. He thinks you have talent, just not… ‘Buzzline’ talent.”

               Mark rolled his eyes and got up, pushing away from his desk. She lead him down to the producer’s office, who grinned like a coyote when he saw Mark.

               “Mark!” He greeted. “How’re you, guy?”

               “I’m fine,” Mark said flatly, “why’d you fuck with my writing?”

               “I didn’t fuck with it,” the producer waved his hand, laughing a little bit, “I just made it more… Interesting! Something people will  _ want _ to watch.”

               “I’ve had a lot of people read it who want to see it how I wrote it,” Mark pointed out, crossing his arms.

               “Well, no one who watches Buzzline will want to watch it. I hate to say it Mark, but your writing is… Well, it’s juvenile. With someone supervising it, you’d make a fantastic writer. Now, we wouldn’t pay you to be a writer, you’re just not there yet, but we’d work with you and let your shit be on TV! Doesn’t that sound great?”

               Mark was fuming, to have his work called juvenile--even though his own high school teacher had said that it was beyond the writing of a senior--was frustrating enough. But Mark had a sour taste in his mouth as he shuffled his feet.

               “My name  _ would _ appear on the work though, right?” He asked, fists clenching at his sides.

               “Well…” The producer trailed off, “it’s not like you really wrote it, not with all of my edits.” He laughed dryly, “we’d say a special thanks to you, though.”

               Mark scoffed and looked at the wall, his hands shaking as he thought about the past few weeks. Alexi had slowly been increasing his workload, and despite that, Mark had managed to turn in multiple scripts and drafts to the producers while managing things at home. He shook his head and laughed a little bit, biting his lip.

               “So… That’s a yes?” The producer asked.

               “Wow. No.” Mark shook his head, “fuck no. Y’know what? Fuck you-- _ fuck you _ . How  _ dare _ you even try to pull some shit like that? It’s  _ my _ work, it’s  _ my _ content. And it’s great the way it is! Maybe not perfect, but great! And I don’t need  _ you _ meddling around in it and fucking it up.” Mark kicked one of the chairs to the side, slamming his hand down on the producer’s desk. “ _ Fuck you _ . I’m out of here.” 

               Mark walked out and went to his desk, grabbing his shit and stuffing it into his bag. He went past the HR department and knocked on the door, bouncing a little as he waited for Allie to answer the door.

               “Mark?” Allie asked, coming up from behind him with coffee in hand.

               “Allie--hey. I quit. Just thought you might want to know.” Mark nodded, “it was great working with you, but this place sucks  _ ass _ . So I’m done. Thanks for working with me through all of that Alexi bullshit but I’m done. Really.”

               He waved a bit before walking out of the building--storming off. He felt a bit childish to have just left like it was nothing, but at the same time he was too frustrated and upset with that job to have done anything else. 

               Mark marched home and fell to the floor once he got there, huffing angrily as he put his face in his hands, trying to take deep breaths to calm down. But little did Mark know that this was the tip of the iceberg--things would only go downhill from here.

  
  


               A few hours later, once Mark had calmed down (Roger had left him alone for the most part), he was ready to tell Roger.

               “So… Why’d you come home early?”

               “I quit.” Mark nodded, biting his lip as he watched for Roger’s reaction. “I just--I couldn’t take it anymore. I talked to the producer today and he changed all of my shit and Alexi’s been giving me more stuff to work on at home and I just… I couldn’t do it, Rog. I’m done, I’ll find a new place to work I’ll--I’ll do something else. Literally, anything else. I’ll go back to making coffee, for hell’s sake.” Mark laughed dryly, looking defeated. “I’m sorry, Roger. I just… I couldn’t keep doing it.”

               Roger shook his head and went over to Mark, cupping his face in his hands, “it’s okay, baby.” He tried to smile reassuringly, “I didn’t think you were long for that job.”

               “Or any job,” Mark muttered, pouting.

               “Hey--you deserve a place that really appreciates you. Somewhere where you’re happy.” Roger smoothed his thumbs across Mark’s cheeks. “I promise, baby. We’ll find you a place where you’re happy.”

               “Thank you,” Mark wrapped his arms around Roger and hugged him tightly.


	30. Chapter 30

               The first week of job searches were relentless, but one good thing was that Roger finally got to move into the artist’s society just a few blocks away. Though officially not a resident, Roger was just a few weeks away. His first show would be in December--right around the time Mark came to live with him. The boys had taken a day off of circling want ads in the newspaper to get Roger’s studio set up.

               Mark was stacking canvases against the wall while Roger hung a few of his favorite pieces up. Glancing over his shoulder, Roger noticed how sad Mark looked, and couldn’t help but feel a little responsible for it. While his dreams were coming true, Mark’s were on pause. Roger bit his lip and glanced in the corner of his dimly lit studio, then thought of something. He hopped down from the step stool and went over to the table in the corner, he grabbed an overstuffed chair and set it by the table, grabbing a blanket they’d brought and threw it over the chair. 

               “Hey--I um… I want this to be your space too,” Roger smiled and tapped the desk, “for your writing.”

               Mark paused and looked over at him, smiling a little as he bit his lip, “you’re cute.”

               Roger bit his lip and shrugged, smiling as he patted the spot, “I don’t know—I just want you to be happy too.”

               “I’m happy that I’m with you,” Mark nodded, smiling. “C’mon, we’ve got a lot to set up.”

               Roger rolled his eyes and smiled, “when’s your interview?”

               “In an hour,” Mark smiled, “I don’t think it’ll lead anywhere though.”

               “We can just hope, though,” Roger shrugged. “No point in being negative.”

               Mark shrugged and kept working, “we’ll see.”

  


               A few hours later, Mark was back home with Roger. He flopped onto the couch and groaned, shaking his head.

               “No luck?” Roger guessed.

               “Not really,” Mark shook his head, “they were kinda… friendly with me.”

               Roger raised an eyebrow, walking over to the couch, “what do you mean?”

               “The guy kept asking me out,” Mark sighed, rubbing his eyes. “Even though I told him I have a boyfriend.”

                “Well, you are pretty cute.” Roger nodded and played with his hair. 

                Mark blushed and shrugged, playing with his hands, “if you say so.”

                “I do,” Roger nodded and watched him, still playing with his hair. “I’m sorry that it’s been rough though.”

                “It’s okay,” Mark shrugged, biting his lip, “I guess I’m getting used to it.”

                Roger bit his lip and frowned, going over to tackle Mark in a hug, “I love you.”

                “I love you too,” Mark nodded, smiling a bit as he kissed Roger’s cheek.

               “Get some rest, okay baby?” Roger asked, playing with his hair, “you’ve got a few more interviews tomorrow.” 

               “Yeah…” Mark mumbled, biting his lip, “can you come to bed with me?”

               “I’m gonna make us some dinner,” Roger shook his head, “go get some rest and I’ll come get you when it’s ready.” 

               Mark pouted but sighed, and got up and went to his their room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the big thing happens in the next chapter, be prepared--I'm breaking it up into two chapters so there's a break from everything that's going on, but yeah. Take a minute to prepare yourself I guess?


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning this is literally the first thing i wrote for this fic and i wrote it to make /me/ cry and i generally don't cry when it comes to reading fics... so um yeah just like take a minute before the thing, you'll know when it happens before it happens i think

               Since Roger had gotten his space, Mark spent every day--almost the entire day out and about, looking for a job. After two weeks, he’d taken a break and just focused on setting up appointments instead of going door to door. So when Mark came home after going out to a few interviews and set his bag down, sighing softly as he stretched, groaning softly as he kicked his shoes off, he was thankful to be home.

               “Hey baby,” Roger glanced over at him from the kitchen, “how were your interviews?”

               “They were okay,” Mark shrugged a bit, “nothing really seemed to catch though.”

               “I’m sorry,” Roger made a face, then stopped what he was painting to come over to Mark.

               “It’s okay,” Mark shrugged again and took his hands, swinging them a little bit, “I’m gonna go shower, okay?”

               “Okay,” Roger nodded and kissed Mark’s cheeks, then let go of his hands and returned to his work.

               Mark went and showered, but forgot clothes to change into, so Roger went into their room and dug around for fresh clothes for him. But as he dug around in their dresser, Roger found a half full bottle of unlabeled pills. He stared at them for a moment, trying to decide what to do. He shook one out of the bottle and looked at the numbers printed on it, then Googled it and found that it was generic Adderall.

               His face grew hot and red as he walked around, clenching the bottle in his hand. Roger went out to the living room and walked around, pacing the floor as he decided what to do. Not after long, Mark came out of the bathroom, wearing one of Roger’s big sweatshirts and his sweatpants that he’d found drying in the bathroom.

               Roger held up the unlabeled pill bottle, shaking it a little, “what’re these?”

                Mark blushed furiously and shook his head, “Roger, it’s not what you think.”

               “Then what is it, Mark?” Roger asked, biting his lip as he stepped closer to his boyfriend. “Cause if you think I’m gonna put up with this shit—I’m not. Tell me what the fuck they were doing in your bag.”

               “Roger, they’re from a long time ago.” Mark confessed, “Ben gave some to me and I… I didn’t know any better and I was taking them to deal with Alexi and Buzzline and everything—but I’m done with them. I swear. I haven’t taken any in weeks, Roger.”

               “How long ago were you taking them?” Roger asked, his jaw clenching in anger.

               “Three weeks ago,” Mark confessed, shaking his head. “I know it’s dumb and wrong and that I shouldn’t have done it but Roger, I mean—I wasn’t thinking clearly while I was taking them. You know how that—“

               “Don’t you dare compare this to what I did,” Roger shook his head, scoffing a bit. “Don’t you  _ fucking _ dare.”

               “I’m just saying that of all people, you should understand!” Mark spat, getting angrier by the minute.

               “Well I don’t, Mark. I don’t get that after I tell you about everything I did—after you heard about how it hurt me, that you would turn around and do it to yourself? How?” Roger asked, “I’m legitimately curious, Mark, because to me it would seem that you weren’t listening to a fucking word I said.”

               “I don’t have to take this, y’know.” Mark cut in, suddenly changing his attitude, “I told you I stopped. What more do you want? An apology? I didn’t do anything to you—“

               “You could’ve overdosed or something—you could’ve—fuck, Mark—you could’ve gotten into something so awful if you kept this up.” Roger pointed out.

               “Fuck you.” Mark shook his head and grabbed his coat, storming out of the apartment—leaving Roger behind.

               Normally, Mark didn’t go out at night alone, not because he was scared, but because he was sort of uncomfortable being alone in public—but right now, he didn’t care. Mark stormed down the street, taking turns and crossing through paths he didn’t recognize. Finally, he thought he saw a short cut home—it’d been almost an hour and a half since he’d left. He figured Roger would be cooled down enough by now. So Mark started down the side street, keeping close to himself since it was dark and he couldn’t see very well.

               But what he didn’t notice was the guy following him. Or the fact that the guy sped up and caught Mark’s sleeve halfway down the alley.

               “You really shouldn’t be alone at an hour like this—in a place like this.” His voice grew dark and Mark tried to pull away.

               “I’m fine, thank you.” Mark tried to rip his arm away, but found that the guy was holding on very tightly.

               Starting to panic, Mark tried to hit him and push him away—but the man almost seemed to know every move Mark would make, and managed to block them all. The guy shoved Mark against the building, pinning him there as he tried to hold Mark’s hands up while undoing his belt—but Mark managed to wiggle his hands free and slap the man. Mark thought that maybe the man would let go if he did that—but he was wrong. Instead, the man pinned Mark up against the side of the building by his throat. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he tried to fight him, desperately pushing at his hands and face. His grip tightened and he leaned close to Mark.

               “Stop that.” He grabbed Mark’s wrists and held them above his head, his voice a dangerous growl.

               “No,” Mark spat, taking shaky, sharp breaths.

               He let go of Mark’s wrists and slapped him, making Mark cry out in pain. Quickly, he tugged Mark's clothes up and away--and did the same with his own.

               You can imagine what happened next.

               Mark was crying, gasping for air as he kept trying to push the stranger away, but slowly, he grew too weak to fight. Regret washed over him, and Mark finally let go, his body weight becoming heavy as he closed his eyes and tried to gain his strength. At the end of the alley, where it let out onto the street, Mark saw a figure.

               “Help,” Mark begged weakly, managing to raise his voice enough to be heard, “help!”

               The guy stopped and looked down the alley, the man attacking Mark slapped him, making him cry out in pain.

               “ _ Please _ ,” Mark cried, “ _ please! _ ”

               The guy at the end of the alley started to walk down, approaching cautiously until he realized what was happening. Mark sobbed as the stranger shoved his attacker to the side; his grip loosening, letting Mark drop to the ground. He quickly pulled himself together and shuffled away, watching as his savior beat the shit out of his attacker.

               Mark was curled up into a ball, his breathing rough and jagged. The man had beaten his attacker to the ground and taken something from his pocket; once it seemed like he wouldn’t get up, the man went over to Mark and knelt down.

               “Hey, hey, you’re okay, you’re okay—I promise.” He offered Mark his hand, “let’s get you home.”

               He looked up at the man and shook his head, “I—I don’t…”

               “I won’t hurt you,” he shook his head, “but c’mon, I want you to get away from this freak before he comes to.”

               It took a moment, but Mark nodded and got up, his arms wrapped tight around his body as he walked alongside the man.

               “I’m Link,” he introduced himself, “where do you live?”

               “Greenwich Village,” Mark nodded, sniffing, “I um…” He stopped, his legs shaking as he closed his eyes, about ready to pass out.

               “Woah, woah, stay with me,” Link wrapped his arm around Mark, “c’mon, let’s go, we’ll get you home.”

               Mark nodded and leaned close to Link, taking short steps as he squeezed his legs together. The walk took less than twenty minutes, but by the time they were at the apartment, Mark couldn’t stop shaking as he tried to open the door.

               Link took Mark’s keys and opened the door for him, gently leading him inside, “do you live with anyone?”

               “My boyfriend,” Mark said softly, nodding a little as he rubbed his eyes.

               “Is he home?” Link asked, helping Mark up the stairs.

               “I—I think so.”

               “Okay, good,” Link nodded and helped Mark up to the apartment.

               Mark sighed shakily and tried to open the door, his breathing getting fast as he started hyperventilating. The door opened and Roger looked at Mark with wide eyes, worry etched into his features.

               “Mark…” Roger mumbled as he tugged him into a tight hug.

               “I um—he was being…” Link trailed off, unsure how to say it. “He was getting attacked when I found him.”

               Roger blinked and pulled back, looking Mark up and down, “you—wait, what?”

               He looked down and sniffed, barely managing to choke out, “I—I—a guy he—he um…” Mark trailed off, his eyes becoming dull as he shook his head, not wanting to say it.

               Link looked at Mark worriedly and then back at Roger, “he was being raped.”

               Mark burst out in sobs, and Roger nodded a little as he wrapped his arms tight around Mark.

               “Fuck—shit, okay—um—thank you.” Roger nodded and held Mark close. “Thank you.”

               “Of course,” Link nodded and bit his lip, “you should take him to the hospital.”

               “That’s where we’re gonna go,” Roger nodded again as he clutched onto Mark.

               “Okay, good. I’ll um—stay safe, okay?” Link asked, putting his hand on Mark’s back.

               Mark nodded as he tried to stifle his cries. “Thank you,” he whispered, his whole body shaking.

               “I um—here’s my number…” Link grabbed a scrap of paper out of his pocket and scribbled down his number, “please call me if you need anything—I—I know I’m just a stranger, but...” He trailed off, looking at Mark, “I just need to know that he’ll be okay.”

               Roger nodded a little and smiled sadly, “thank you.”

               “Oh—um, I know I shouldn’t have taken it, but… Here’s the guy’s wallet. If it’ll help you out.”

               “It will,” Roger nodded and took it.

               Link reluctantly left, and Roger took Mark into the apartment. He helped him walk over to the couch, but before they could make it, Mark’s legs gave out and he sunk to the floor, sobbing as he crumpled up into a ball.

               Roger knelt next to him and tried to help him up, “c’mon, we need to go to the hospital.”

               “No,” Mark shook his head and scooted away, pulling his knees up to his chest.

               “Please, Mark,  _ please _ ,” Roger pressed, trying to get him to stand up.

               Mark kept fighting it, crawling away and hiding his face every time Roger tried to help him up.

               Finally giving in, Roger panicked and grabbed his phone before pulling Mark onto his lap, holding him tightly. Quickly dialing, Roger held the phone up to his ear, his legs bouncing slightly as Mark clung onto his shirt.

                 “Hello?” A groggy Joanne picked up.

                 “I need you to come over here,  _ now _ .” Roger demanded, his voice wavering in fear.

                 “What? Roger--it’s two in the morning, why’re you--”

                 “I found Mark.” He cut her off, feeling tears reach his eyes, “he was… Someone was… I just  _ need _ you to come over. Please--he--he doesn’t want to go to the hospital and keeps running into the apartment when I try to take him--I  _ need _ help, Joanne.”

                 She was silent, after a moment, Roger heard some rustling.

                 “Maureen, wake--MAUREEN!” Joanne shouted, and distantly Roger could hear a tired and angry Maureen respond.

                 “WHAT?” She snapped.

                 “We have to go see Mark and Roger.” She said flatly, a jingle of keys joining her voice. “ _ Now _ .”

                 There were protests and some hard to make out shouting, but finally, Joanne’s voice calmed down.

                 “We’re on our way now.” She said, “I’m gonna call Angel, okay? I’ll get her and Collins to meet us at your place. Do you want Maureen to call Mimi?”

                 “I can call her,” Roger shook his head, “don’t bother Angel and Collins. We can call them tomorrow.”

                 “Angel probably already knows something’s up,” Joanne replied--the sound of a door slamming shut.

                 “How?” Roger asked.

                 “Couldn’t you feel it earlier?” Joanne scoffed, “couldn’t you feel that something was wrong?”

                 “I… Yeah, but… I thought it was just me.” Roger stuttered out, “look, I have to call Mimi--just--get here as fast as possible.”

                 He hung up and clutched onto Mark tightly, now shaking with anger. Dialing Mimi, he tried to stop crying, huffing loudly to make himself take deeper breaths.

                 “What?” Mimi asked, sounding alert and pissed.

                 “I need you,” Roger quickly spoke, “Mark’s home and… Mimi, he got attacked. He’s--He needs to talk to someone who’s been through this.”

                 Mimi didn’t need clarification. She knew exactly what Roger was talking about.

                 “ _ Shit _ .” She cursed, the clicking of heels followed her voice, “okay. I’ll be there in five.”

                 Hanging up, Roger dropped his phone to the ground and tangled a hand in Mark’s hair, holding him close as he tried to gently rock the two of them. Mark had quieted down quite a bit, and was now just shaking.

                 “C--Can--Can I shower?” Mark asked, his voice was wavering, but higher and softer than it usually was.

                 It broke Roger’s heart.

                 “No, no, sweetheart, you can’t.” Roger shook his head and kissed Mark’s forehead, “you’ve gotta leave everything… How it is.” He trailed off, “we have to get you to a hospital and they’re gonna take care of everything.”

                 “I don’t want to,” Mark started to sob again, hot tears streaming down his cheeks. “I wanna go to bed.”

                 “I know, love,” Roger tried to soothe him, “I know. But… We have to report what happened. And we’re gonna figure this out, okay?”

                 Mark didn’t say anything, but gripped Roger’s shirt tighter in his hands. He didn’t say anything for a while--Roger felt like a damn hour had passed before Mark finally spoke again.

                 “Why does it keep happening?”

                 Roger’s head hit the wall, and he took a few deep breaths before he shook his head and kissed Mark’s forehead again, “I don’t know, sweetheart.”

                 Before Mark could say anything, the door busted open and Joanne tugged Maureen into the apartment. Mark cringed at the sound and tried to hide in Roger’s coat, but it was useless.

                 “Oh, Mark…” Joanne sounded apologetic, as if she had played a role in making Mark so miserable.

                 “C’mon honey,” Maureen pushed some of his hair aside, “we’re gonna get you changed into some warm clothes and then we’ll go, alright?”

                 Mark shook his head and squeezed his legs together, not wanting to open them, even to change the torn pants he was in.

                 “Can he stand?” Joanne asked, glancing at the door.

                 “Barely,” Roger shook his head. “He can’t change clothes.”

                 “Why—“ Joanne started to ask, but then she thought about it and nodded, “you’re right.”

                 Maureen took Mark’s arm and helped him up so Roger could stand. Once he was up, Roger wrapped his arms around Mark, practically holding him up.

                 “C’mon honey,” Maureen repeated as she took over Roger’s place, guiding Mark into the bedroom.

                 “I don’t wanna go,” Mark cried, showing the bruises he had earned from putting up a fight.

                 “You have to, Mark,” she shook her head and helped him sit on the bed. Gently pushing his hair back out of his face, she glanced at Joanne, who stared with wide eyes.

                 “Get your phone, take pictures.” She looked at Maureen, “Roger, get your good lamp in here.”

                 Roger followed orders, grabbing his lamp from his untouched studio and set it up in Mark’s room so Maureen could take some pictures of the bruising Mark had going on.

                 “Okay, when’s Mimi supposed to get here?” Joanne asked as she paced his room.

                 “Anytime now,” Roger shrugged, biting his lip. After a moment, he coughed a little and rubbed his eyes, “I um… I’ll be right back.” He left the room and went to his own, Roger stood there for a few minutes, letting himself cry without anyone seeing. This was far too much for him--to see the person he loved hurt so badly, it was agony. By the time he regained composure and walked out of his room, Mimi was sitting on the bed with Mark while Maureen hugged Joanne.

                 “Love,” Mimi bit her lip as she fixed some loose strands of Mark’s hair, “we need you to go to the hospital. We’ve gotta check if you’re okay and if you’re hurt, we have to get you help. But we can’t do that if you stay here. I went to the hospital after I…” She trailed off and shook her head, “if they can find any… Y’know, they’ll test it right away and get that asshole. I promise.”

                 Mark looked at her with big, tearful eyes, sniffing as he shook, “is Roger mad?”

                 All three ladies paused and looked at each other, each of them feeling a pang of guilt.

                 “No,” Maureen finally answered, “no, sweetie, he’s just scared. But he wants you to feel better.”

                 “It’ll help him if you go to the hospital,” Mimi added, “he loves you so,  _ so _ much, Mark. He just wants to protect you.”

                 “He’s mad isn’t he?” Mark bit his lip, the awful feeling that Roger was upset with him lingering in the air.

                Roger came back into the room and cupped Mark’s face in his hands and kissed him sweetly. After a good minute, he pulled away and took Mark’s hands.

                 “I  _ love _ you, Mark. Please. I just want you to feel better and--we need to get some help for you to feel better.” Roger kissed his cheeks, “but we need to go to the hospital.”

                 Mark shook his head, his eyes getting wide. He looked at each of the ladies in the room as tears welled in his eyes.

                 “I um… I just—I don’t want…”

                 The three ladies looked at each other, then Roger bit his lip and waved for them to leave, “let me talk to him real quick.”

                 They shuffled out of the room, closing the door behind them.

                 After a moment of silence, he wrapped his arms around Mark. “Please don’t leave me again,” Roger asked softly, his hands shaking as he rubbed Mark’s back.


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YEAH SORRY THIS FIC WAS TAGGED AS BEING SAD SO SORRY but AT THE SAME TIME YOU SHOULDA BEEN READY  
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> also, just so you know, writing is really therapeutic for me, and so writing this was kinda me dealing with the times i've been raped, so just--i wrote it for a reason.

                 Suddenly, there was a shout.

                 “WHERE IS MY BOY?” Angel’s familiar voice rang out. “My precious boy, where is he?”

                 “In here,” Roger sniffed and opened the door.

                 Angel walked in with Collins. She wasn’t in a wig and had on no makeup; some old Adidas shoes and some of Collins’ clothes on.

                 “Oh Mark,” she said softly as she wrapped her arms around him.

                 Collins stood in the doorway, watching Mark closely.

                 “Hospital?” Collins asked, raising an eyebrow.

                 “Yeah,” Roger nodded.

                 Angel cleared her throat loudly, telling the boys to be quiet. Roger bit his lip and ushered the other three back in.

                 “Now, we’re gonna take you to the hospital, okay honey?” She pulled back, smiling sadly as she rubbed Mark’s arms.

                 “I don’t wanna go,” Mark spoke weakly.

                 “We have to,” Mimi joined Angel’s attempt, “honey, remember what we talked about?”

                 Mark nodded and looked at his hands, the feeling in his chest suddenly bust open, and Mark found himself crying again. But he wasn’t crying about what had happened, no, he was crying for a whole other reason.

                 “What’s going on, honey?” Angel asked, kneeling down so she was level with Mark’s eyes.

                 “I wish I had a mom,” he confessed, looking between all of his friends.

                 Angel smiled and bit her lip, shaking her head, “we can fix that. But we’re gonna make a trade, okay?”

                 Mark nodded, rubbing his eyes.

                 “We’re gonna get you a mom, but you have to go to the hospital.” Angel held out her pinky, watching Mark’s eyes. “Okay?”

                 “Okay,” Mark nodded, sniffing.

                 “Pinky promise me that you’ll go?”

                 That cracked a smile from Mark, who hooked pinkies with Angel and nodded.

                 She pulled him into a hug and held it for a moment, then let Roger scoop Mark up in his arms.

                 They walked a few blocks towards the hospital when a black car pulled up in front of them.

                 Rolling down the window, Benny became visible.

                 “I--I overheard Mimi at the club and…” He shrugged, “need a ride?”

                 Everyone looked to Roger, who nodded. After piling into the car, everyone was silent.

                 The drive to the hospital took longer than expected, but getting into the ER was easy. Everyone filed in quietly, all standing behind Roger as he explained what had happened to Mark that night.

                 The nurse on duty was very kind and guided them all to a waiting area that was largely blocked off from every other patient in the waiting room. Mark’s case was marked as priority--or at least, it seemed that way, because a nurse came out rather quickly to collect Mark and Roger.

                 The process took hours, and Roger couldn’t help but get protective at times. Like when the nurse had to take a sample from what had happened, along with some of the blood that had gotten onto Mark’s thighs, he wanted to protest, but knew that it was necessary. Mark stayed silent mostly, Roger answered a lot of the questions that the nurses asked and filled out all of the paperwork for Mark, who had laid down on the cot and closed his eyes.

                 A police officer came in after a bit, and this was when Mark had to do the talking. She asked him questions about where he’d been and what he’d been doing before it happened. He explained that he had stormed out of the apartment after arguing with Roger, and that he had gotten himself into a part of New York that he didn’t know. And that when he was trying to get back home, a man had stopped him and grabbed him. When Mark described the actual assault, it was like Roger’s ears stopped being able to hear.

                 There was a ringing over the words, which he could vaguely hear, but his mind kept him from attaching meaning and feelings to those words. He’d never been so aware of his body trying to protect him before.

                 The officer turned to Roger, asking him to fill in any other details he could think of. But Roger shrugged and shook his head, “I don’t know, really—this guy brought Mark to the apartment and…”

“His name was Link,” Mark said softly, “he had olive skin and bright green hair.”

                 “Okay…” The police officer nodded and wrote it down, “anything else you noticed about him?”

                 “He um… He gave me the wallet of the guy who was…” Roger trailed off and handed it to the officer.

                 “Okay,” the officer nodded and took it from him, “did he tell you where he found Mark?”

                 “I was off of Avenue B,” Mark said softly, his eyes getting watery again.

                 “I um—I’ve got his phone number if you need it.” Roger offered.

                 “A phone number would be great,” she smiled and flipped to a new page in her notebook.

                 Roger told her Link’s number, his focus mostly on Mark at that moment. “Thank you,” Roger nodded, taking Mark’s hand.

                 She left them alone, and the main nurse who had been helping them came back in with the on-call doctor.”

                 They explained a few things, recommended that Mark stay home and seek therapy for the events of that night.

                 After several minutes of them talking, Mark asked, “what do I do now?”

                 The doctor took a breath in like he was going to say something, but then paused and looked at the nurse. She bit her lip and sat next to Mark, putting her hand on his back.

                 “Well, sweetie, that’s up to you.” She nodded, “I’d say, go home, take a nice bath or shower and take off of work.”

                 “We’ll give you a note,” the doctor offered.

                 “I um--I quit my job, so…” Mark shrugged, shaking his head.

                 “Oh, okay, well… Go home.” The nurse said positively, “get some rest and eat something good. You’ll get a call from the police soon.”

                 A silence spread over the room, but finally, the doctor broke it.

                 “Y’know, when this happened to my daughter, I asked her what she wanted. She said she wanted to go see the Grand Canyon.” He nodded and swallowed hard, “so we went to the Grand Canyon.”

                 Mark took it into consideration and nodded, “I… Wanna see my dad.”

                 “Then go see your dad, sweetie,” the nurse smiled, rubbing light circles into Mark’s back.

                 Mark glanced at Roger with hopeful eyes. He nodded and got up, “c’mon, let’s get you home.”

                 When they arrived back at the apartment, everyone stood in the living room, not sure what to do.

                 Roger set Mark down on the couch, his eyes closed as he took deep breaths, finally feeling calm.

                 “I um, I can take care of him,” Roger nodded, looking between everyone, “really. You guys can go home.”

                 Mimi shuffled in her spot, glancing between her friends before she spoke up, “it feels kinda wrong to just… Leave.”

                 “Well… You guys can stay too,” Roger shrugged, biting his lip. “I’m just gonna get Mark into the shower and make him some food.”

                 “Take care of the shower, we’ll handle the food.” Collins smiled a little.

                 Roger nodded a bit and kneeled down next to Mark, smoothing his hair out, “let’s get you cleaned up, okay?”

                 Mark nodded and got up, his legs still shaky. But he managed to walk to the bathroom, waiting in the doorway for Roger to come with.

                 He followed after a moment, surprised to see Mark look back at him with big puppy eyes. Once they were both inside, he closed the door.

                 “Bath or shower?” Roger asked, smiling as happily as he could.

                 Mark shrugged and played with his hands, “either.”

                 Roger nodded and thought about it for a moment before he started the shower.

                 Blushing bright red, Mark glanced up to meet his eyes, “would you um… Would you get in with me?”

                 He thought about it for a moment, trying to consider if that was the best thing for Mark right now. But he decided that Mark knew what was right for him, “yeah, of course.”

                 Mark smiled a little and peeled his clothes off, Roger did the same. But once Mark’s top was off, Roger paused and reached out, lightly running his fingers over the spots where Mark’s ribs stuck out. He bit his lip and pulled away to finish getting undressed, the gesture had made Mark’s ears turn red. Roger stepped in first, offering his hand to Mark, who took a deep breath and got in with him.

                 The two stood there for quite some time, just holding hands as the stream of water hit them. Finally, Roger wrapped his arms around Mark and held him tightly, relishing in the fact that he got to hold Mark again. After a few minutes, he pulled back and started to wash Mark’s hair.

                 “We’ll give you a haircut later,” he nodded, taking a moment to press kisses to Mark’s shoulders.

                 Mark moved closer to Roger, pressing his back against Roger’s chest. Wrapping his arms around Mark’s waist, he continued to press kisses where he could reach, each one of them lingering and soft.

                 “I love you,” Roger said quietly between kisses.

                 Mark nodded, “I love you too.”

                 “Please don’t run away like that anymore.” Roger asked, pulling back to meet his eyes.

                 “I won’t,” Mark nodded, biting his lip.

                 Roger smiled sadly, taking a deep breath before he said, “you’re the most handsome man I could’ve ever had the pleasure of falling in love with.”

                 Mark blushed and smiled to himself, glancing down at the ground. “Thank you.”

                 He ran his fingers through Roger’s hair and decided that if that was the case, then he would take care of Roger too. Grabbing the shampoo, he started to wash Roger’s hair, earning a sweet smile and a few kisses to his cheeks.

                 The two were gentle with each other--especially Roger. He took care to make sure Mark felt as clean as he could, even taking extra time to just trace shapes along Mark’s spine to help him feel calmer. After a bit, they turned off the shower and dried off, getting re-dressed before they went out to find that everyone had made a nice area of blankets and pillows for the two of them. Joanne, Angel, and Collins were cooking away, obviously making a few things so neither of the boys had to worry about cooking for the next few days.

                 Roger lead Mark to the couch, and Maureen handed over a warm mug of coffee. Mark took it gratefully and sipped it, tapping his fingers lightly against the warm cup. Roger went to the kitchen, but Angel ushered him out.

                 “Go sit with your boy.” She smiled and winked, “make him comfortable.”

                 He blushed lightly and went back to Mark, sitting next to him. Mark wiggled a little and shifted so there was more blankets for Roger, who happily wrapped his arm around Mark to pull him close.

                 Mimi had put on a movie and was busy organizing a few things that had been left out and discarded in Mark’s absence. Maureen sat in front of Mark and Roger, but took Mark’s hand and held it, mostly to make herself feel better.


	33. Chapter 33

The apartment was bustling, and Mark finally felt at home for the first time in a long time.

                 About half an hour later, there was a knock at the door, and Angel quickly set down what she had been doing.

                 Mark glanced at the door, a bit confused.

                 “Hi honey,” an older African American lady walked into the apartment, “where is he?”

                 “Right over here, mama,” Angel lead her over to Mark.

                 “Mark, this is Claire, she helped me take care of myself when I first moved to the city. She’s like a mother to me, and she’s a foster mom to so many kids here in New York.” Angel introduced her, “I told her about your mom and what happened tonight and I just… I thought it’d be good for you two to meet.”

                  Mark nodded a little and got up, Roger got up too, standing close to his boyfriend.

                 “May I talk to him alone?” Claire asked, glancing at Roger, “if you’re okay with that.”

                 “Yeah,” Mark answered, nodding. He looked back at Roger and kissed him quickly, pulling back to give him a somewhat reassuring smile. “I’ll be okay.”

                 “Okay…” Roger nodded a little and bit his lip, squeezing Mark’s hand before he let go and sat back down.

                 Mark went with Claire to his room and sat down on his bed, a blanket wrapped tight around his shoulders.

                 Claire closed the door behind them and stood in front of Mark, smiling a little, “hi honey.”

                 “Hi,” Mark waved a little,biting his lip.

                 “So… Angel told me a little about what’s going on. And what’s been going on.” She nodded and sat next to him, “wanna talk about it?” 

                 “Sure,” Mark nodded a little, “but--maybe not all of it?” He asked, glancing at her with sad eyes.

                 “Okay,” she smiled and nodded, “Angel’s told me about your mom. And how awful she is to you.”

                 “Yeah,” Mark sighed a little, “she’s never been nice to me. She’s always kinda… Hated me, I guess.” Mark shrugged, “she always liked my sister Cindy because she took shit, but I didn’t.”

                 “So you were kinda defiant?” Claire asked.

                 “Yeah,” Mark nodded, “I didn’t like to follow her rules. She always made me wear matching dresses and go to ballet--and like--I don’t have an issue with ballet. I really liked it, but I didn’t like wearing the tutu and being forced to be in a pink leotard. I liked soccer and football,” he sighed, “I  _ loved _ cars and learning how clocks and radios worked--but she never let me do any of that.”

                 Claire nodded and watched him, “it’s kinda like your mom took away the childhood you deserved.”

                 “She did,” Mark nodded, “at least--the childhood I wanted.”

                 “I’m sorry, love,” she sighed and wrapped her arm around him. “And… Angel told me about what happened to you in high school--and what she said to you about it.”

                 Mark grew quiet and looked at his hands, biting his lip, “yeah, she wasn’t too kind about it.”

                 “No she wasn’t,” Claire shook her head, “she should’ve been there for you. She should’ve let you cry and taken you to the hospital. What happened to you wasn’t fair, Mark. It shouldn’t happen to anyone. But the fact that it happened to you means that you can either grow from it, or let it hurt you.”

                 Mark glanced up at her, pausing to think about it, “how… How do I move on?” Mark asked, looking at his hands as he leaned against her.

                 “Well, now, that’s something you’ll come to at your own pace. It won’t be overnight and it won’t be  within a week. It’ll take months, maybe years. But what’s important is that you find help and that you trust all of your amazing friends out there, okay?” She asked.

                 Mark nodded and rubbed his eyes, getting a bit teary.

                 “Angel mentioned you’ve been to a therapist. I’d keep going to that if I were you. But… Not just about what happened tonight. Go and talk about your mom too, you need to get that out, sweetie. Keeping it all in isn’t good for you. What happened was wrong and you’ve gotta get through it. Your mom was awful to you and you need to voice it. Talk to Roger, talk to Angel, talk to Collins or Mimi--someone. Anyone. They’ll all listen to you, babe.” She smiled reassuringly. “You call me anytime you need a mom, okay?” 

                 He nodded and sniffed a bit, “thank you.”

                 “Of course.” She nodded, “and uh… I know you probably have already thought of this, but let Roger follow you around for the next few days. You know--he might think this was his fault.”

                 Mark blinked in surprise and looked at her, “why would it be his fault?”

                 “He confronted you and you left the apartment because of what he said, didn’t you?” Claire raised an eyebrow.

                 “Oh…” Mark thought about it, and considered it for a moment, but shook his head. “I was just being stupid--I could’ve worked through it with him if I hadn’t left. It’s not his fault.”

                 “Tell him that,” she rubbed his arm, “he’s gonna have a hard time believing it.”

                 Mark nodded and bit his lip, getting up to hug her tightly, “thank you so much.”

                 “Of course, sweetie,” she smiled and hugged Mark tightly, “now go get some rest, okay? You’ve been through enough today.”


	34. Chapter 34

                 A week later, they were at Mark’s dad’s house, staying in the nicely decorated attic. Mark was laying in bed, curled up tightly as he slept. He hadn’t slept in a while--at least, not very well. Roger watched Mark sleep, playing with his hair as he pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. They’d waited a week to go so Mark could see a therapist right away, and see a psych to get his medicines readjusted. 

                 Mark sighed softly in his sleep, nuzzling into his pillow. Then there was a light knock at the door.

                 Roger glanced over at the door and watched Ruth come in.

                 “Hi,” she said softly, playing with her hands, “can I lay down with him?”

                 “Yeah,” Roger smiled and stood up, nodding, “of course you can, hun.”

                 She smiled a little and laid down next to Mark, who wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close, sighing again as he held her close.

                 “Come get me if you need anything, okay?” Roger asked as he walked towards the door.

                 Ruth nodded and cuddled close with Mark.

                 Roger went downstairs, rubbing his eyes as he sat at the dining table.

                 “How’s he doing?” David came in, setting down some groceries.

                 “He’s okay, asleep,” Roger nodded, “Ruth’s up there with him now, I think she just needs to be close to him right now.”

                 “Yael’s a little scared to talk to him,” David nodded, “Ruth feels bad though.” 

                 “She shouldn’t, she didn’t do anything.”

                 “Ruth’s always been like that. She always takes on the blame and tries to do whatever she can to fix it,” David nodded, “she’s like Mark like that.”

                 “Yeah,” Roger nodded and sighed, “I feel awful.”

                 “What’s going on, son?” He asked, sitting next to Roger.

                 “This just feels like my fault,” he shrugged, “I just--I was wrong to assume he was… I should’ve asked him what was going on and not assume.”

                 “It’s okay to assume sometimes,” David shrugged, “I think… I think this would’ve happened either way.” He nodded, “and you did the right thing--you took him to the hospital.”

                 “Yeah, but--”

                 “No, Roger--this would’ve happened no matter what. Even if you hadn’t found those pills, even if you hadn’t brought it up to him. Things work out in weird ways, but this is one of those things that just… happens, Roger. It’s not your fault. I know you think it is, and I know it’s hard to believe that it isn’t, but this isn’t your fault.” David shook his head and patted Roger’s hand. “He needs you.”

                 Roger grew quiet, sitting there as he thought about it.

                 Above them, a shower turned on, and a few moments later, Ruth came downstairs.

                 “He wanted to shower,” she shrugged a little, “he said Roger could come up whenever.”

                 Roger nodded a little bit and got up, “thank you, Ruth.”

                 She paused for a minute, then tackled Roger into a hug, quietly crying. He blinked and looked down at her, hugging her tightly.                 

                 “What’s wrong?” He asked, smoothing her hair down as he knelt down to be at her level.

                 “Is he mad at me?” Ruth cried, fisting Roger’s shirt in her hands.

                 “What?” Roger pulled back to look at her, “no, honey, no. Mark’s not mad at you he’s just… He’s going through something and really needs your help.”

                 “He wouldn’t talk to me,” she sniffed, rubbing her eyes.

                 “I don’t think he’s got a lot to say right now,” Roger shook his head, rubbing her shoulders, “he’s been through a lot--I--” He paused and looked at David, unsure what she knew. “Did… Did your dad tell you what happened?”

                 Ruth grew paler and shrugged a little, “um, Cindy kinda did.”

                 Roger nodded a bit and rubbed her back, “well--think about it like this--imagine someone took--you like to read, right?”

                 “Yeah,” she nodded.

                 “Imagine someone took your very favorite book and ripped all the pages out--each and everyone one of them. They did it one by one and tore apart the cover and the back and when they got to your favorite part, they stopped and made fun of it--made it so you felt like it was wrong to like it--and then they took that part and specifically tore it to shreds while making you feel like it was awful.” Roger explained. “And once it was all ripped out, they took whatever was left of the book and threw it at you. Made it so you knew that the book was destroyed, and that it was your fault for it being destroyed.”

                 Ruth considered it, biting her lip then sniffed and nodded, “can I do anything to help him?”

                 Roger thought about it, then thought of something, “maybe if you colored him something--or made him a card or something.” He smiled, “we can try making something together.”

                 “No, no, you should go to him,” Ruth shook her head, “I’ll go find Yael and we’ll make Mark something.”

                 “Okay,” he smiled and hugged her tightly, “Mark’s gonna get better, I promise. He’s just having a hard time right now.”

                 Ruth nodded and hugged Roger, then rushed off to find her sister.

                 David smiled a little at Roger, “that was an excellent way to explain it to her.”

                 He shrugged a little bit, “I uh, I don’t know, it just… I just kinda made it up.”

                 “Go on up to him, I’ll make you two some dinner since you haven’t eaten since you got here.” David nodded and got up.

                 “Thank you,” Roger smiled and went upstairs, knocking lightly on the door to the bathroom.

                 “Come in,” Mark mumbled, curled up tightly in the bathtub--letting the water wash over him.

                 Roger went inside and sighed when he saw Mark. He turned off the shower and started filling the tub. 

                 “Hey baby,” he smiled and played with Mark’s damp hair.

                 “Hi,” he said softly, rubbing his nose.

                 “Ruth’s worried about you,” he knelt down next to the tub, biting his lip, “I kinda explained what’s going on.”

                 “Oh,” Mark nodded.

                 “She uh, she thought you were mad at her--and I told her that you just feel a little torn apart right now.” Roger nodded, “what did you guys do?”

                 “After she laid down I pulled her close and hugged her,” Mark shrugged, “she asked if I wanted to play and I shook my head.”

                 “Ohhh,” Roger nodded, “that makes sense.”

                 “Yeah,” Mark shrugged, “I um, I just want to protect her, I guess. And I didn’t--I don’t…” 

                 “Mark,” Roger put his hand on Mark’s back, “it’s not your job to protect her. If it’s anyone’s job it’s your dad’s, but not yours. You’re just her brother, you’re supposed to be here for beating up the kid who calls her ugly or pulls on her pigtails.” 

                 Mark smiled a little at that, laughing softly under his breath. 

                 “C’mon, I’ll wash your hair.”

                 Roger smiled and started to clean Mark off, knowing that he felt incredibly sick and dirty after everything happened. Once he was out and dried, Roger got him some new clothes and brought him downstairs, where his dad had set out some food for them.

                 Mark sat at the table and gratefully took a piece of bread, eating it like he had the first time Roger ever saw him eat anything. It was gentle and focused, his eyes closed as he focused on what the food tasted like. He took deep breaths and took a few long drinks from his cup, taking his time to feel better.

                 After about thirty minutes, Mark was feeling much better, and stretched. Suddenly, Ruth and Yael ran upstairs and rushed over to him, holding out a few pieces of paper held together by string. 

                 “Mark!” Ruth grinned a little, “we made you this.”

                 “It’s got your favorite things in it,” Yael nodded, “it’s got movies and--and books and um… Oh! We got a picture of all of us in it… Do you… Do you like it?”

                 Mark flipped through it, smiling as he saw little pictures cut out of his favorite movies and the pictures they’d found in the old boxes downstairs of Mark looking cute and sweet--the few of him in his high school’s theatre productions as Juliet and once as the Prince in some form of Cinderella. Tears welled in his eyes and Mark pulled the two in a hug, dropping the booklet on the table. 

                 He cried softly, happily, as he hugged them tightly.

                 “Thank you, girls.” He smiled, sniffing, “thank you so much.”

                 Ruth was crying a little as well, but not as much as Mark. A few minutes passed, but finally the two girls let them be. In the meantime, Roger had looked at the booklet they made him and was practically enchanted by the pictures of Mark in his theatre years. Mark rubbed his eyes and smiled, sighing happily as he looked at Roger.

                 “What?” Mark asked.

                 Roger got up and kissed Mark softly, holding his face in his hands as he kissed him sweetly. He pulled back a little, just enough to speak.

                 “You’re amazing.”


	35. Chapter 35

                 Roger and Mark were back in the apartment soon enough, and Mark was feeling better for sure. Though he wasn’t great yet. As a matter of fact, about two months had passed without him feeling great. He still felt pretty lost and hurt, which was irritating to him. He hadn’t found work yet, even though everyone was telling him to stop looking. Mark’s dad was helping them out with the rent for now--deciding that Mark needed to focus on getting better. 

                 Something good was that Roger’s first art show was right around the corner, as well as Mark’s birthday. The two were at the studio, setting up paintings in the gallery. Roger had decided to do his collection of paintings based around Mark--and was incredibly proud as he saw them being set up.

                 Mark was in the middle of putting up the plates that had the paintings names and materials on it when he started to feel sick. He leaned against the wall, taking a few deep breaths. A minute passed and he felt better, but quickly, Mark started to feel sick again. He felt too warm and sweaty--almost, maybe a little dizzy. 

                 “Hey, Roger?” Mark asked, leaning against the wall.

                 “Yeah, babe?” Roger asked, glancing over at him.

                 Mark took a few deep breaths and shook his head, dropping the name plates as he rushed outside, doubled over and threw up. Roger rushed out after him, smoothing his hand over Mark’s back in a circle, watching him worriedly. 

                 “What’s going on?” He asked quietly, playing with Mark’s hair.

                 “I--I don’t know,” Mark choked out, squeezing his eyes shut, “I think I need to go home.”

                 “Okay,” he nodded, “okay, let’s get you home.”

                 Roger lead Mark inside and grabbed his coat and bag, leading him outside again to their short walk home. Once there, Roger got Mark tucked into bed, but Mark didn’t want to stay put.

                 “Roger, I feel better, just let me--”

                 “No, no, you’ve gotta lay down, babe,” Roger shook his head, “you’re sick, c’mon.”

                 “Roger, I feel fine now!” Mark frowned, pushing him away, “I just threw up--I could--I could have high blood sugar or something, it’s fine.”

                 “Can you check?” Roger asked, biting his lip.

                 “I could also just be sick,” Mark shrugged a little, “it’s probably nothing, Roger.” He huffed as he checked his blood sugar. “See? It’s normal.” He held up the meter for Roger to see.

                 “Huh…” Roger mumbled softly, biting his lip, “that’s… Weird.”

                 “I don’t know, Roger,” Mark shrugged, “I’ll lie down if it makes you feel better, but I feel okay, so…”

                 Roger nodded slowly, “huh… Okay….”

                 They sat together for a few moments, before Roger got up and started fixing things around the apartment, and Mark got up to make himself some food.


	36. Chapter 36

                 A few more weeks passed, where Mark kept occasionally throwing up--though it became a smell sensitive thing. Random things. Eggs--especially the smell of eggs baking or cooking--any candle with lemon in it (which was more than they thought they owned), one of the soaps in the shower that had an artificial citrus smell to it--weird, little, little things set him off.

                 But that wasn’t what got him, no--because despite being trans, he couldn’t stop certain acts of nature happening to his body. And lately, he felt like he had every symptom of a period besides the actual… Period part. 

                 Mark was laying on the bed, binder off as he put his hands over his chest, trying to press them down and mush them so they’d stop hurting. It was a dull ache, it’d been worse for sure, but right now it was just the tip of uncomfortable that got him. His eyes were closed as he sighed--the door was shut tight as Roger was baking for his birthday. Which Mark didn’t really feel like celebrating. Everyone would be coming over later, which would be great if Mark felt anywhere near normal.

                 He sighed shakily, rubbing his eyes as he got up and got dressed. Knowing the smell would make him sick, Mark took a deep breath and went out to Roger, smiling a little.

                 “Do we really have to have a party?” He asked, “it’s my birthday, shouldn’t it be what I wanna do?”

                 “It’s kinda late to cancel, sweetheart,” Roger sighed, “everyone’s gonna be here in an hour.”

                 “Fine,” Mark pouted, biting his lip as he felt the smell wash over him, “um--do you need anything?”

                 “Could you go get some more powdered sugar? We’re out,” Roger asked, gently nudging Mark towards the door, “before you throw up?”

                 “Yeah,” Mark nodded and quickly left, taking in deep breaths of fresh air as he walked to the grocery store at the end of their street.

                 As he walked through the aisles, Mark tried to think of what it could be that was making him sick. While walking, he walked past pads and tampons and thought about the fact that he kinda should need those sometime soon--in fact, a few weeks ago. Technically by now, he should’ve needed quite a bit of those.

                 And it hit him.

                 Mark scrambled around the aisle and found a pregnancy test, quickly going to check it out. He rushed to the bathroom and took the two tests in the box, setting them on the edge of the sink as he paced around, starting to panic. His breathing quickened and his heart beat went faster, tears welled in the corners of his eyes as he panicked. This was the last thing he expected. The last thing he wanted. Hell--the last thing he could deal with right about now.

                 The three minutes passed too slow, and before he new it, he was looking down at two positive tests.

                 Mark grabbed them and started his walk home, going slower than usual.

                 When he got home, the apartment was decorated nicely and out sat some food, and everyone jumped a little when the door opened. But they all smiled and held out their arms, as if they were welcoming Mark home. When Mark didn’t do anything, Roger laughed shyly and walked over to him.

                 “Hey babe, what’s wrong?” He wrapped an arm around Mark and gently rubbed his back, biting his lip as he watched him.

                 “Surprise.” Mark said softly, handing over the two tests.


	37. Chapter 37

                 “We’ll--We’ll go to a doctor, we’ll--these can’t be right,” Roger paced the apartment, while Mark sat on the couch with Mimi rubbing his back and Maureen holding his hand. 

                 “Why can’t they be?” Mark asked softly.

                 He’d stopped freaking out. He’d stopped panicking. Right now, his heart just hurt.

                 “Cause, cause--um--well…”

                 “We’ll just get some more tests and I’ll take them,” Mark shrugged, shaking his head, “I just…” He sighed and shook his head. “I can’t…”

                 “Roger, calm down,” Collins made him sit across from Mark, “we don’t know how it happened or… Who it was.”

                 “I’m pretty fucking sure it was that asshole,” Roger commented, nodding a little, “I can’t--fuck,  _ fuck _ what do we do?”

                 “Okay,” Joanne clapped her hands together, “Roger, you’re gonna go outside and take a breather. Get all your shouting done out there. Not around Mark.” She nodded, “and Mark, sweetie, we’re gonna get you an appointment with a doctor for this week.”

                 Mark nodded and rubbed his eyes, sniffing a little.

                 Roger’s eyes got wide and he got up, rushing over to Mark. He knelt down and took his hands, squeezing them tightly, “fuck--shit, I’m sorry, babe.  _ I’m sorry _ .” He ran his hand through Mark’s hair, “it’s gonna be okay, love, I promise. It’s--”

                 The more Roger spoke, the more Mark cried, and finally he just pulled him into a tight hug.

                 Mark clutched onto Roger and cried, breathing hard as he shook, his chest rising and falling unevenly. Roger held onto Mark tightly, smoothing his hair out.

                 “What do you need?” Roger asked, holding him close.

                 “I don’t know,” Mark shook his head, “I don’t know, Roger.”

  
  


                 A few days later, Mark was sitting in a doctor’s office, with Joanne and Roger. Mark sat on the table, waiting for a few test results to come in. Mark’s eyes were closed as he sat and played with his shirt, his eyes red and swollen from all the crying he’d done. Part of him knew how this came to be--he knew it wasn’t because of Roger or anything Mark had willingly done. And it killed him. He didn’t know what he wanted to do at this time. He was terrified--at a loss to understand what he should be feeling at that time. 

                 The doctor came in, and nodded, “so… You  _ are _ pregnant.” She nodded, “we’ll do some tests to find out if you have HIV, but… If you guys are as safe as you say you are, I highly doubt it’s…”

                 Mark sighed and looked down, shaking his head, “what--what can I do?”

                 “Your options?” She asked, “well, um, there’s kinda three ways to go.” She nodded and grabbed some papers, “I’ll give them to your friend here, you can go over it when you feel better later.” 

                 “Okay,” Mark nodded and rubbed his eyes, “um--until I decide, what should I be doing?”

                 “Take some vitamins, we’ll write the right kind down on your paperwork, um… Just… Focus on getting yourself better, sweetheart.” 

                 “Okay,” Mark nodded, sniffing a little as he took a few deep breaths. 

                 “We’re gonna order some labs, if you can go down to the next level and follow the purple arrow, it’ll take you to the labs. Okay?” She smiled a little and patted Mark’s shoulder.

                 Mark nodded and hopped off the table, he went out to the waiting room, Joanne and Roger following behind. 

                 They went and Mark’s labs got done, Joanne ushered the boys home and Mark went and laid down. Roger stood in the living room, unsure where to go.

                 “Go to him,” Joanne pushed, “I’ll clean up a bit here and I’ll make you two dinner. Go talk to him, see what he wants to do.”

                 “Okay,” Roger nodded.

                 He took a deep breath and walked into their room. Since everything had happened, they hadn’t really talked or kept the same schedule. Roger had pulled back a little and been staying in his studio, unsure what to do. Mark had spent most of the time asleep, too overwhelmed with his choices.

                 Roger climbed into bed and shuffled up next to his boyfriend. He wrapped his arms around Mark and kissed his forehead, holding him close.

                 Silence spread over the room.

                 “Y’know, I never got to give you your birthday present.” Roger bit his lip and looked down at Mark, who looked up a little at him.

                 “I don’t want it,” he shook his head, “I just want this to go away.”

                 Roger noded a little, like he was considering it, “you don’t even wanna know what it is?”

                 Mark stayed silent and shrugged, his eyes falling back to Roger’s collarbones.

                 “Sit up,” Roger tapped his arms and got up, he went to their dresser and dug around the top drawer. 

                 Mark sat up and played with his hands, watching Roger as he dug around.

                 A moment later, Roger returned with a little box, and held it out to Mark, sitting on the bed next to him. Mark took it and looked at it before gently tearing the ribbon off. He took the top off and stared down at a little velvety box nestled into some tissue paper. Mark opened it up and saw two little golden rings, one right next to the other.

                 “It’s kinda a joint gift,” Roger lightly joked, smiling a little.

                 Mark stayed silent, just looking at the smooth rings. Finally, he quietly asked.

                 “Why would you want me?”

                 Roger blinked in surprise and shuffled a little closer, “cause… well…” He sighed, biting his lip, “I--I don’t know, Mark. But I do. I know I do. There’s something about your salty, brave ass that I love.” Roger wrapped his arm around Mark, “and I promised I would. I didn’t just say I would to make you happy. I said it cause I meant it. I  _ want _ you, Mark. I wanted you when we met, I wanted you two months into you living here--I wanted you eight months ago, and I want you now. Right now.” He gently pushed aside some of Mark’s hair, “I know… I know things are tough right now. And I know you don’t believe that it’ll be okay. I get that things aren’t going as you planned--that this…” He put his hand over Mark’s stomach, “that  _ this _ wasn’t a part of the plan. But it’s here now. We’re here now. And I’m telling you that I  _ want _ you. I  _ need _ you, Mark.”

                 “Whatever you decide to do about this is your choice, this is your body and whatever you want is fine by me. Just… Just as long as I get to be here for it.” He kissed Mark’s cheek and picked up the ring meant for Mark, holding it up so he could see it, “and I swear, Mark, I swear that I’ll try to keep you safe for the rest of our lives. Keep you safe and happy. Okay?”

                 Mark watched him for a moment, biting his lip as he thought about it. He looked back at the other ring and picked it up. He took Roger’s hand and slid it on his finger, “okay.”


	38. Chapter 38

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, I know what's happened isn't what y'all wanted. But I originally wrote this outline for a book, and /then/ added Roger and Mark into it. Everything is preplanned, and technically, this is a rough draft for my book. The names are gonna be changed in the end of course but what you're reading is a very rough, first draft of my novel. So feedback is always appreciated! Even if it's small or just a comment on something you'd like to see or what you think about what I wrote. I'm writing this to get out a lot of feelings I've held back, but I'm also writing this for people to enjoy! Thank you so much for reading and please continue with what's next to come!

                 Mark woke up for the first time in a few mornings feeling great. He looked up at Roger, who was nestled between their pillows. His one hand was tangled with Mark’s, the other laid across the pillow, framing him in a perfect moment.

                 Carefully untangling himself, Mark went and grabbed his camera, quietly sneaking around as he wound it. Mark focused on Roger’s face and let it start filming; he cursed the loud clicking, but was happy to find that it didn’t bother Roger one bit. He stayed in bed and sighed, turning over to stretch a little bit. Mark then went to the bathroom and turned the light on, filming himself.

                 He looked at himself directly, not through the camera. Mark went over to their long mirror and tried to puff out his stomach, thinking hard about what he was doing. The best Mark could get was a slightly bloated look at himself. He stopped the camera and set it back down on the coffee table, abandoning it to go take a vitamin they’d gotten from the grocery store down the street. Mark closed his eyes.

 

_ There they were, the three of them walking down the street. Roger held Mark’s hand and the baby in the other. He held him on his hip, the little blonde boy grinned as he wiggled in his father’s arms. He wiggled his arms faster, indicating that Mark should take him. Mark laughed and handed Roger the groceries, taking the little boy in both hands. He held him up in the air and wiggled him a little bit, grinning up at the toothless smile.  _

 

Mark opened his eyes and took a deep breath. He downed the vitamin and grabbed a piece of paper. He started to write--furiously, his pen moved with every thought. Tears welled at the corners of his eyes, but he wiped them away, huffing as he refused to allow time to get emotional. This was pure. This was raw. Brain to paper writing, Mark didn’t know why he needed to, but he wrote.

 

_ Dear baby-- _

 

_ The thought hasn’t even occurred to you yet. Isn’t able to form yet. But you’re changing everything. My body hurts and my heart hurts. Not because I don’t want you, because I don’t know what to do with you. I can’t stand the thought of giving you up. But getting rid of you hurts more. I don’t know if I’m ready for a child or if I’m ready to take care of anyone but myself and maybe Roger. I… _

_ I think I love you already. I think knowing you’re in me makes me want to protect you. It makes me want to keep you from getting hurt or taken away. I know this isn’t anything to you yet--you don’t know the harm of the world outside. You don’t know what can happen or what’s happened or how you came to be. You’re just… There. _

_ Inside, creating, everyday growing and expanding, you’re becoming more and I’m breaking down. _

                 Mark paused, taking a deep breath. He closed his eyes and let out a choked sob, then continued writing.

_ That’s it. You’re mine. You’re mine. You’re mine you’re mine you’re mine you’re mine you’re mine. No one gets to take you away from me. I won’t let them. Your dad and I love you  already. _

_ I’ll never be to you what my mother was to me. _

 

                 Mark set down the pen and folded the paper up. He stuck it in an envelope and went to Roger’s studio, grabbed a tube of green paint and opened it up, pressing the present paint to the envelope, giving it a thin, green dot. Mark closed the tube and set it on the coffee table next to his camera. He went back into their room and crawled in next to Roger, nuzzling into his chest. Roger sat up a little, blinking as he looked around the room.

                 “Wh--wha--”

                 “Shhh,” Mark hushed him, “sh…”

                 Roger blinked and looked at Mark, “woah--wait,” it took him a moment, “were you crying?”

                 “Yeah,” Mark nodded and kissed his cheeks, “but for a good reason.”

                 Roger thought about it and nodded a little, cuddling close with Mark, “oh… Okay…”

                 Mark pulled Roger so he was cuddling again, and quickly Roger fell asleep.

                 He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, taking Roger’s hand and resting it against his stomach.


	39. Chapter 39

                 The three months were nothing great. Except for a lot of doctors and specialists telling Mark to eat more. And Roger was constantly on his ass about taking his insulin as prescribed. Which meant Mark would spend a good five minutes every morning, mumbling something about how Roger could go shove it. He’d grown a bit in two months--not much, something that could definitely be hidden by his sweaters. And that’s what he had been doin. Wearing several sweaters around everyone. But suddenly, Mark woke up one morning to find that his sweaters weren’t cutting it. 

                 Mark came back into their room looking pouty, Roger smiled a little and wrapped his arms around Mark from behind, putting his hands on his small bump.

                 “Is it time to tell everyone?”

                 “Yeah…” Mark mumbled, groaning, “Mimi’s gonna kill me for not telling her.”

                 “She has to go through me first,” Roger smiled and kissed Mark’s cheek. “I’ll call everyone and we’ll meet at the Live Cafe, okay?”

                 Mark sighed and rubbed his eyes, “can you put my shoes on?”

                 “Where are you going?” Roger laughed softly, smoothing out Mark’s hair.

                 “I have to tell my dad,” Mark shrugged, nudging his shoes towards Roger.

                 Roger paused and thought about it, “oh… Then I’m gonna cancel my classes. I’ll come with.”

                 “No, no,” Mark shook his head, “no, you don’t have to.”

                 “Why not?” Roger asked, “Mark--I’m here for you. And… I don’t think you should tell him alone. Plus… The idea of you leaving alone kinda freaks me out still. Okay? I’m just--I think it’d be better if I came with.”

                 “What if we just call him?”

                 “No, no,” Roger shook his head, “then he’ll think I did it and we all know what that would mean.”

                 “Yeah…” Mark mumbled, biting his lip, “fine, fine, okay. But we can go  _ after _ your class. Help me into my shoes please.”

                 Roger smiled and kissed Mark, holding it for a moment before he pulled back and nodded, “of course.”

  
  


                 A few hours later they were standing at David’s house, and Mark was clutching his coat around himself as to hide his bump.

                 Cindy answered the door and looked Mark over, raising an eyebrow, “girls! Dad! Mark and Roger are here!”

                 Mark’s eyes got wide and he shuffled around to hide behind Mark.

                 Which was smart, because Yael barreled out the door and slammed into Roger--Ruth right behind her. 

                 “Woah! Hey,” he laughed a little, hugging them tightly.

                 “Where’s Mark?” Ruth asked.

                 “Cindy said he’s here!” Yael grinned.

                 “Hi girls,” Mark smiled a little bit, clutching his stomach.

                 Yael quickly transitioned to Mark--but let go the second she wrapped her arms around him. Her eyes got big and her voice was hushed.

                 “Holy crap!”

                 “Don’t say holy crap,” Mark threatened, his voice low.

                 “What?” Ruth asked, then glanced at Mark--and her eyes got wide.

                 “What’s she ‘holy crapping’?” Cindy asked, glancing around Roger, who smiled shyly and looked at the ground.

                 Cindy came out and went to grab Mark’s hand when she felt his bump--and instantly pulled away, “holy shit!”

                 “No one’s ‘holy shitting’ on my lawn!” David came out, looking between them all, “what’s going on?”

                 Roger seemed to panic--unsure what to do in this situation. He put his hands on top of his head and looked at David, “um, Mark’s pregnant and I’m not the father.”

                 He blurt it out and Mark quickly ran up and slapped his hand over Roger’s mouth, cringing at his dad’s face. Which was somewhere between joy and anger. It took a minute for him to ask.

                 “Because of the..?”

                 “Yeah,” Mark nodded, biting his lip.

                 “And how far?” He asked.

                 “About three months.”

                 “Three months? Three months and no one tells me.” He threw his hands in the air, “how does this go on for three months and no one tells me I’m going to be a grandpa?”

                 “I’m sorry dad, I just--I didn’t know how and I--” Mark’s voice stopped being what Roger was used to and turned into this light and airy voice Roger couldn’t recognize.

                 Which showed in his face, because he looked at Mark like he was nuts.

                 “And I’m sorry, dad, really, I didn’t mean--I just-- the decision was a lot and I just… I didn’t know, and dad I’m so scared, what if I’m like mom and what if I’m--” Mark started crying, which snapped Roger out of his funk, he quickly steadied Mark and held him close, shaking his head.

                 David shook his head and walked over to Mark, taking him by the shoulders and holding him up, “son. Repeat after me.”

                 “But dad--”

                 “Repeat.”

                 Mark took a deep breath and nodded, rubbing his eyes.

                 “I’m not my mother.”

                 “I’m not my mother,” Mark repeated, closing his eyes.

                 “I’m not my mother.”

                 “I’m not my mother.”

                 “This child is blessed to have me for a father.”

                 “This child is blessed to have me for a father,” Mark sniffed, nodding a little.

                 “This child will come into love.”

                 “This child will come into love.”

                 David smiled and pulled Mark into a hug, rubbing his back, “it’s okay, son. You’re okay. You’re gonna be a great father, and I just--I’m very happy that you’ve got yourself Roger and--and now a baby! Mark, I couldn’t be prouder! Now come inside, we’ll have some food and--”

                 “Oh, we’re having dinner with our friends--we’re telling them tonight as well.” Mark nodded, biting his lip.

                 “Good lord Mark, you come here, tell us you’re pregnant, and then just expect to leave?” Cindy laughed, “no way--get your ass in there.”

                 Mark laughed a little and coughed, getting back to his normal voice.

  
  


                 Finally, Mark and Roger stopped in at the Live Cafe, where no one was at yet. Mark sighed and sat in a booth, hands on his bump as he watched the door. Roger sat on the opposite side, watching him closely.

                 “So… Can you speak with your normal voice?” Roger asked, biting his lip, “oh shit--wait, no, that’s rude, no, I’m sorry.”

                 “It’s fine,” Mark shrugged, clearing his throat before he spoke at his usual level, “It’s just kinda too girly for me, y’know?”

                 Roger blinked and nodded, “say more.”

                 “Um..” Mark thought, “say more?” He laughed, “uh, we saw my dad today and--”

                 “Oh shit they’re here.” Roger leaned over and kissed him quick, “I love you.”

                 Mark blinked in surprise and looked over at them, his voice going back to normal, “oh.”

                 “Hey guys,” Joanne waved as she ushered everyone in.

                 “Hey M--” Mimi’s eyes got wide, she rushed over and gently touched Mark’s bump, “holy fuck.”

                 Mark laughed lightly and shrugged, “yeah.”

                 “Holy shit you guys!” Mimi grinned at everyone.

                 It took a minute for it to click, but when it did, everyone let out a sigh of relief.

                 “Oh honey,” Angel smiled and came over, “honey we’re so proud of you.”

                 “Woah, woah, woah,” Maureen stepped in. “Hey. We would still be proud of Mark even if he’d gotten an abortion.” She clarified, “we’re proud that he made the choice that was right for him. Mark, we’re all here for you and we’re glad you made your choice. But we’re not just here because you chose to keep it. We’re here cause  _ you _ made the right choice for yourself.” She nodded and went over to Mark and lightly touched his bump, “plus we get to see a baby moving in you.”                  

                 “Not quite yet,” Mark shook his head, “that won’t happen for a while.”

                 She frowned and looked at Joanne, “but I wanted to see a baby moveeeee.”

                 “Soon enough,” Joanne laughed softly.

                 “How’re you feeling?” Collins asked, smiling kindly as he let everyone feel Mark’s bump.                 

                 “I’m okay,” Mark nodded, shrugging, “kinda tired.”

                 “Oh you should get home then, honey,” Angel looked at everyone, “he needs rest.”

                 “Yeah,” Mimi nodded.

                 “Okay, go home,” Maureen nodded and took Joanne’s hand, gently leading her out.

                 Angel took Collins’s hand and lead him out as well, Mimi following behind.

                 Mark got up and went out with Roger. The two hugged and said goodbye to everyone, heading home for the night. 

                 Once they were in the apartment, Mark started to strip--tired of his clothes. He’d had to start wearing a bra, which he hated, but his binder hurt his chest too much (of course it was a half binder, he wasn’t stupid)--so that was first to go.

                 Roger looked over at Mark and bit his lip, “I can start a bath for you.”

                 Mark shrugged and kicked his pants off, “I don’t know if I want one.”

                 “What if I got in with you?” Roger offered, “I’d wash your hair for you.”

                 He shrugged again and sighed, “can you rub my legs? I can’t reach the spot that hurts.”

                 “Of course,” Roger nodded and lead Mark to their room, “c’mon.”

                 Mark climbed on the bed and flopped down, sighing as he drummed his fingers against his bump.

                 Roger massaged Mark’s legs and watched him closely, knowing that he was having a long, hard day. 

                 “What names do you like?” Mark asked, biting his lip.

                 Roger blinked and thought about it, “hm… Well, I guess it kinda depends,” he shrugged, “which are you hoping for?”

                 “I don’t know,” Mark shrugged, “I keep picturing a boy. But I come from a family of all girls, so…”

                 “That’s fair,” Roger nodded, “so, assume it’s a boy. What do you wanna name it?”

                 “I like Jonathan,” Mark nodded, “but I also kinda like something simpler.”

                 “Jonathan’s nice,” Roger smiled up at Mark, “what if it’s a girl?”

                 Mark thought about it for a few long moments, “I don’t know.” Then, an idea hit him, “we could name it after Alex.”

                 Roger paused and thought about it, then shook his head, “no, no--I um--I think that’d be too hard.” He coughed a little, shrugging as he bit his lip.

                 “Okay,” Mark nodded, smiling a little bit, “what about Winona?” 

                 “Winona’s nice,” Roger smiled, “I like Winona.”

                 “We’ll think of more,” Mark nodded, “but Jonathan and Winona are a good start.”


	40. Chapter 40

                 It was the middle of the night when Mark woke up, uncomfortable and tired. He wiggled and huffed, tapping Roger’s arm.

                 “Babe?” He asked, wiggling around a little.

                 “Hm?” Roger hummed in his sleep, nuzzling into his pillow.

                 “Can you come here?” Mark pouted, shuffling just a little bit.

                 “Yeah,” Roger mumbled and shuffled as close as he could to Mark.

                 Mark sighed a little and took one of Roger’s hands and placed it on his bump--the feeling making him feel a little more comfortable. He stuck one of his legs between Roger’s and groaned--finally feeling comfortable for the first time that night.

                 “You okay?” Roger asked, sighing softly as he kissed Mark’s forehead.

                 “Yeah,” Mark nodded and sighed, “I just can’t sleep.”

                 “Sorry,” Roger opened his eyes a little to look at Mark, “do you wanna read or something?”

                 “No,” Mark shook his head, “I just wanna stay with you.”

                 “Okay,” he smiled and played with Mark’s hair. “We really need to give you a haircut.”

                 “I know,” Mark huffed a bit, “I need to cut my nails too.”

                 “We can do that all in the morning,” Roger nodded and smiled.

                 Mark stayed quiet for a minute, then bit his lip and whined, “why do I want food right now?”

                 “Cause you’re pregnant?” Roger laughed softly, “and you’ve got a little person in you who’s taking up some of your energy and is growing and needs you to eat a little more?”

                 “But I don’t wanna eat,” Mark pouted.

                 “C’mon,” Roger stretched as he sat up, “let’s get you some food.”

                 Mark huffed as he got up, wiggling as he stood up and followed Roger out.

                 “What do you want?” Roger asked.

                 “Something easy,” Mark shrugged, “oh wait--can we get that pizza?”

                 “Which kind?” Roger raised an eyebrow.

                 “The one from that garage kitchen place,” Mark nodded, “in Soho?”

                 Roger thought about it and shrugged, “okay.”

                 “I’ll go get dressed.” Mark nodded and went to their room to change.

                 Roger just threw on a coat and put on shoes, Mark came out a minute later and got his on as well. The two got on a subway and made their way to the rinky pizza shop. 

                 Not many people were on at that time, which meant that it was pretty quiet, despite the general sounds of the subway. Mark and Roger were in a car that was empty besides them, though neither talked much. The lights flickered uncomfortably, and went out for at least a minute.

                 Mark took Roger’s hand and squeezed it, sighing shakily, “I hate subways.”

                 “Maybe we should look into getting a car,” Roger shrugged, “I mean, with a baby and stuff, it’d be kinda nice not to have to lug stuff around on public transportation.”

                 “Yeah,” Mark nodded, “but where would we keep it?”

                 “There’s a few lots by our place,” Roger shrugged, looking at Mark, “hey--I love you.”

                 Mark blushed lightly and smiled, “I love you too.”

                 “So… We should probably start wedding planning soon,” Roger pointed out, biting his lip.

                 “I don’t wanna plan while I’m pregnant,” Mark shook his head, “plus--” 

                 “Plus?” Roger asked.

                 “Um, well--I just--I guess I kinda forgot about it until now but… My family’s gonna expect you to convert.” Mark looked at Roger just as the lights went back on, “it’s kinda… A thing.” 

                 Roger blinked and thought about it, “huh.”

                 “You don’t have to,” Mark shook his head, his eyes wide. “It’s not like a dealbreaker or something. I wouldn’t make you do it if you didn’t want to, I just--they’re gonna expect, and especially with you helping out with the kids and stuff they’re gonna think--”

                 “Mark, Mark,” Roger gently tapped his hands, “hey--just, take a deep breath.” He smiled and nodded, “I’ll think about it, okay? I wanna know more about what you believe and so we could go to a service and see what it’s about.”

                 Mark blushed a little and laughed softly, “um… Are you sure? Cause everyone’s gonna wanna talk to you and uh--they get too close sometimes and…” He played with his hands, “I um just… I’ll give you some books to read, and we can go over it together and talk about it. Otherwise everyone’s gonna assume that you’re converting and it’s a long process and I just--I don’t want you to go through the year without really,  _ really _ wanting to.”

                 “Conversion takes a year?” Roger asked, raising an eyebrow.

                 “About,” Mark nodded, “it can be faster since we’re getting married, but I mean…” He sighed and shook his head, “just… Think about it.”

                 “Okay,” Roger smiled a little and nodded.

                 Mark squeezed his hands and smiled a bit, biting his lip. Soon enough, they got to the right stop, and Roger helped Mark off. 

                 “My legs hurt…” Mark mumbled as he went up the short steps, frowning a bit.

                 “I know,” Roger nodded, “we’ll take a taxi home or something.” He kissed the side of Mark’s head, “that way we can avoid the lights going out again too.”

                 Mark nodded and squeezed Roger’s hand, tugging him towards the pizza place.

                 The two ate their food happily, and then as they were walking home, Mark thought about something and stopped.

                 “What?” Roger asked, looking back at him.

                 Mark bit his lip and tugged Roger a different direction. Roger didn’t ask, but followed. As he dragged him along, Roger started noticing that they were reaching the docks. Mark pulled Roger up to the ferry, and looked at him with big eyes.

                 “Can we go on it?”

                 Roger blinked and shrugged, “sure.”

                 Mark smiled a little and lead Roger onto the boat, paying for their tickets quickly. He went to the front of the boat right away--happy to be on it. It was dark out, but on the very, very edge of the horizon, was a light that just barely reached something they could see. Mark smiled as he watched it, and Roger came up behind him, his arms wrapping around Mark’s middle and held him close.

                 The boat ride was about an hour--they had gotten on first and were the last to leave. And by the time they were done with the ride, Mark was tired. Roger got them a taxi ride home, and on the way, Mark fell asleep. Once home, Roger got out and picked Mark up out of the car and took him inside, tucking him into the bed. 

                Roger climbed in as well and curled up with Mark, playing with his hair as he drifted off to sleep as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey so this pizza place is real and it's in Soho and it's amazing, it's literally in a garage with a garage door across from some hotel, I'll figure out what hotel it is by the next chapter. And the boat ride is real too, and if you're ever in upper New York I really suggest you go on that ferry ride at sunset or sunrise, it's beautiful.


	41. Chapter 41

                Weeks passed, and Mark was getting antsier by the minute. He would wake up early every morning because of the little movements of the baby, which didn’t feel like much just yet, but it felt like butterflies, just how everyone described it. And the fluttering feeling wouldn’t go away for a while, which bothered Mark, but he went with it. Roger was constantly fascinated by the little foot that would jutt out on Mark’s side, or the occasional turn his bump would do as the baby moved. Of course, these movements were little and almost unnoticeable.

                But Roger was intent on seeing them, he loved tracing shapes on Mark’s bump and talking to their baby. Mark didn’t mind it, he usually took that time to relax and sometimes sleep. Lately, Roger had gotten into the habit of singing to the baby, which made Mark happier than he could explain. Sometimes he’d pretend to fall asleep just to listen to Roger sing to their unborn child.

                One thing that was irritating was that Mark was constantly ready to get into bed with Roger--which normally wouldn’t be an issue, but when the feeling is constant and never ending, it became rather bothersome. Because while Mark could distract Roger for a little bit and get him to fool around for an hour, he had work to do. Mark had started writing more and was sending his writing in to magazines and local papers--getting published occasionally. Roger’s art show had been postponed after everything happened, and it was coming up soon. 

                A few days before the show, Mark had an appointment with his OB/GYN. The two were on their way to the office, Mark kept wiggling as they walked, trying to focus on anything but sneaking into a bathroom with Roger to quick bang it out. He huffed as they walked into the clinic, his feet shuffling as he tried to keep himself distracted. Roger checked him in and the two sat down. 

                Mark’s legs kept moving, and Roger smirked a bit, “antsy?”

                “Oh shut up,” Mark blushed awfully bad, glancing at Roger. “This wouldn’t be a problem if we had done something before we came here.”

                “I had to finish my painting,” Roger pointed out and put his leg on Mark’s thigh, “plus, we can do something when we get home.”

                “Okay,” Mark groaned softly and traced shapes on Roger’s knuckles, sighing shakily.

                Soon enough they were called in and Mark was laying on the table, holding Roger’s hand. 

                They did the normal things, weighed Mark and measured him, took his vitals and everything. That part always went by fast. But Mark was anxious to see his baby. Roger was too, but he was much better at hiding it. Mark tapped his fingers against his collarbone and took a shaky breath, closing his eyes as he waited for the nurse to get the ultrasound machine set up. 

                Once it was up and running, she put some of the gel onto the sensor and pressed it against Mark’s side. Moving it around a bit, she watched the screen closely. Finally, a soft whirring filled the room and she smiled.

                “There you go.” She pointed at a little figure on the screen, “there it is.”

                Mark smiled and glanced at Roger, squeezing his hand as he looked back at the monitor. 

                “Did you two want to know the gender?”

                Roger thought about it and shrugged, looking at Mark, “it’s up to you.”

                “Um… Can you write it down for us?” He asked.

                “Of course,” she nodded, “do you want pictures?”

                “Yeah,” Mark smiled and nodded, “of course, yeah.”

                “Alright,” she laughed softly and took a few screenshots, then got up, “the doctor will be right in.”

                A few minutes later, the doctor came in and talked to them about how the baby looked--which was pretty good. Nothing seemed to be wrong. Mark got praised for gaining weight, which made him a little embarrassed, but he moved on from it quickly.

                As the two walked out of the clinic, the nurse handed them their sonograms and an envelope.

                “Open it whenever you’re ready,” she smiled and nodded.

                “Thank you,” Mark smiled and took them, leading Roger out of the clinic.

                “So, do you want to know what it is?” Roger asked, biting his lip as he took Mark’s hand.

                “I think so,” Mark nodded, “but I’m not sure.”

                “We could ask Joanne or Angel to look at it,” Roger offered, “and they could tell us.”

                “I don’t know,” Mark shrugged, “I’ll think about it.”

 

                A few hours later, they were sitting at home, and Mark was wiggling on the couch, trying to get comfortable. 

                “When’s Mimi coming over?” Roger asked, coming over to Mark with a glass of water.

                “Soon,” Mark nodded, taking it from him, “can you sit here?” He sat up and patted where his head had been.

                “Sure,” Roger nodded and sat down, “do you want me to make you anything?”

                Mark shook his head and held onto one of Roger’s arms, setting his head back in Roger’s lap. He closed his eyes and sighed, Roger took it as a sign to play with his hair. 

                “You feel okay?” Roger asked, watching Mark closely.

                “Yeah,” he nodded, sighing shakily, “just a little sick, maybe?”

                “I can call Mimi if you want, she wants you to feel good when you see each other.” Roger continued to play with his hair.

                “No, I wanna see her,” Mark shook his head, “I miss her.”

                “Yeah, it’s been kinda hard since she started working full time at the club.” Roger shrugged a little, biting his lip.

                “Yeah,” Mark mumbled softly, starting to pout.

                “What’s the pouty lip for?” Roger tilted Mark’s chin up a bit to look at him.

                “I don’t know,” he sighed, tracing shapes along Roger’s forearm, “I just want to be not pregnant anymore.”

                “Like, no baby whatsoever or baby out already?” Roger asked.

                “Baby out already,” Mark sighed, “I just wish I could fast forward through this, y’know?”

                “Yeah…” Roger nodded, “but hey, we’ve got your baby shower to plan and I’m sure Mimi and Angel will wanna help do everything for you.”

                Mark nodded and sighed, closing his eyes. “Do you think we’ll have more kids?”

                Roger opened his mouth, but closed it quickly--the question never really dawned on him before. He hadn’t thought much past this baby or their wedding. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized that he did want more kids with Mark. Of course, not in the same way that this current one had been created, but through adoption, he’d love to do that.

                “Yeah,” Roger smiled, nodding, “I think so.”

                Mark nodded and bit his lip, then opened his eyes, “I wanna adopt a kid. Not a baby.”

                “Why?” Roger asked, raising an eyebrow.

                “Kids have a harder time getting adopted. I want to give them a chance.”

                “We could foster kids,” Roger shrugged, playing with Mark’s hair.

                “That might be nice,” Mark smiled and nodded, “there’s a youth center I wanna volunteer at just a few blocks from here.”

                “You’d like doing that?” Roger blinked in surprise, looking down at his boyfriend.

                “Yeah,” Mark smiled, “I would.”

                “Well… Then I think you should,” Roger nodded and kissed his forehead.

                There was a knock at the door.

                “You can come in!” Roger called out.

                Mimi slid the door open and grinned when she saw the two of them. Closing the door behind her, she quickly made her way over.

                “Ohh, Mark! You’re getting so big.” She gently pressed a hand against the side of his bump.

                “Yeah,” Mark rolled his eyes, “it’s in the way.”

                “Oh shush, this is a new life growing in you--of course it’s gonna be a little in the way.” Mimi joked, “so, did you find out if it’s a boy or a girl?”

                “Kinda. Our doctor wrote it down for us,” Mark nodded and pointed to an envelope on the coffee table, next to the one he’d written back when he decided to keep the baby. 

                “Aren’t you gonna open it and find out?” She asked, raising an eyebrow.

                “Not till Mark wants to,” Roger shook his head, “he’s in control of it.”

                “And I wanna write a letter to the baby before I find out.” Mark nodded, “I don’t know why I want to but I just--I keep getting these urges to write letters to it.”

                “Do you think you’ll ever give them to the baby?” Mimi asked, taking Mark’s other hand.

                “I think so.” He nodded, “when it turns sixteen or eighteen maybe.”

                “That’s really cute, actually,” Roger smiled a little, “can I do it too?”

                “Sure,” Mark nodded, “I just… I want it to know it’s loved.”

                “That’s really sweet, honey,” Mimi smiled and squeezed his hand.

                “I just want it to know that it’s loved,” Mark nodded, biting his lip.

                “I think this baby’s gonna come into a lot of love,” Roger laughed softly, playing with Mark’s hair, “it’s got all of us.”

                “We’re just a big family,” Mimi added, “and this baby’s really lucky to have you two as its parents.”

                Mark smiled a little and squeezed Mimi’s hand. “Thank you.”

                “Of course, honey,” she smiled.


	42. Chapter 42

                The day of the show came faster than anyone had expected. Mark was pacing the gallery, admiring all the paintings Roger had done. Roger on the other hand, was standing by the bar area, making some of his anxiety go away with a glass of whiskey. All of their friends had arrived early, though they were all chatting with Roger. Mark had slipped away because he felt a bit overwhelmed, which was becoming the usual for him. Most days he was some level of anxious, and hated it.

                Today was slow though, the morning had taken too long, and for some reason, Mark kept getting headaches while they got ready. He’d even stayed home an hour later than Roger just to see if taking a nap would help--it didn’t. So he decided to brave it anyways, and went to the gallery, where he found a very nervous Roger.

                Mark was towards the front of the gallery when he saw a large crowd walk in, part of him wanted to hide, and the other part wanted to stay and greet them all. But the idea of staying to greet them made him feel like he needed to throw up, so he rushed upstairs to Roger’s studio and sat in the corner, his eyes closed. Roger’s studio was right next to a woman who made pottery, so her room was always warm due to the running kiln, which made part of Roger’s studio very comfortable. 

                And that’s the part that Mark sat in, he found comfort in the quiet hum of the kiln and the warmth it provided. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, feeling calm wash over him for the first time in weeks. 

  
  


                “Mark!” Mimi shook him, “Mark, wake up!”

                Mark blinked slowly and looked up at Mimi, “oh--wait--what?”

                “You fell asleep, honey, Roger needs you.” Angel nodded and offered Mark a hand.

                “Oh…” He nodded and took her hand, pulling himself up. 

                Mark stood and rubbed his eyes, stretching a little bit. “What time is it?”

                “Uh,” Mimi laughed lightly, “honey you’ve been up here for like, three hours. We’ve been looking all over for you.”

                “And then Mimi saw you crumpled up in the corner,” Angel nodded and dusted Mark off lightly.

                “Oh,” he rubbed his eyes and sighed, then let them pull him out.

                They helped Mark downstairs, and the minute Roger saw Mark, he started to grin. 

                “There he is,” he bit his lip and went over to Mark, wrapping his arms around him. Roger kissed him sweetly, holding it for a long moment.

                Mark blinked in surprise and held onto his shirt, then pulled back and met his eyes.

                “What was that for?” Mark laughed softly, raising an eyebrow.

                “I just missed you,” he smiled and kept Mark close.

                “Oh...” Mark nodded and fixed Roger’s hair, “how drunk are you?”

                “Not very,” he rolled his eyes and shrugged, “just a few drinks.”

                “Okay,” he laughed lightly, “you’re cut off.”

                “Oh, Mark, I wanted to introduce you to someone.” Roger nodded and lead Mark over to a group of ladies, all who were dressed very nice and were crowded around the first painting Roger ever did of Mark. “Ladies!” Roger smiled, his arm tight around Mark’s waist. “This is Mark.”

                “Oh hi honey!” One of the women greeted him, “we were just talking about how wonderful this piece is!”

                “Thank you,” Roger smiled, “Mark, this is Carol, she runs the society here.”

                “Oh! How’re you?” Mark asked, offering his hand to her.

                “I’m wonderful, dear, how’re you? How’s the baby?” She smiled, shaking Mark’s hand.

                “I’m okay, the baby’s okay. It should be asleep right now, it usually moves around midnight.” Mark nodded and placed a hand on his bump, smoothing his shirt out over it.

                “I’m so glad to hear that,” she smiled, “we’re very impressed with Roger’s work here, you know. We wanted to know who or what had inspired him to create these pieces and he just spoke non-stop about you.”

                Mark blushed a bit and smiled, glancing at Roger. “Really?”

                “Really,” Carol nodded, “he absolutely  _ adores _ you, dear.”

                He bit his lip and leaned against Roger, “I’m very flattered, honestly.”

                “He even mentioned that you’ve been writing a script,” she sipped her drink, “I was wondering if you’d allow me to read it.”

                Mark blinked in surprise, “you’d--wanna read it?”

                “Of course! I’m supportive of all types of art, and from what Roger’s told me, it’s quite the story.” She grinned, “I’ll have my assistant call you and get the script from you.”

                “Okay,” Mark smiled and nodded, shuffling his feet. “I’m still editing it, but I’m getting close to being done with it.”

                “Wonderful,” she smiled, “I look forward to reading it.”

                They talked a bit more about Roger’s artwork, drawing the night to a comfortable close. 

                The boys walked home, holding each other’s hands tightly.

                “I love you,” Roger spoke softly, his voice barely audible above the hum of the cars surrounding them.

                “I love you too,” Mark smiled and kissed his cheek.


	43. Chapter 43

                Halfway through his fifth month of being pregnant, Mark was becoming irritable and tired. He was constantly uncomfortable, always feeling the baby move in some way, always too tired to do anything. Mark was miserable, and everyone was trying to do everything they could to help him. It killed Roger to see Mark that way, he was always working hard to make Mark feel like he could ask for anything he’d ever need. But even though it was nice, Mark just wanted to be treated normally.

                Mark was curled up in bed, trying to sleep after a restless night. Roger had gotten up a few hours earlier and made Mark breakfast, but Mark felt too sick to eat. He rubbed his eyes and rolled over, surprised to find Roger walking in through the door. 

                “Is there anything I can do to help?” He asked, coming over to smooth Mark’s hair out.

                He shrugged and sighed softly, “I don’t know.”

                “It’s been a few days since you showered, do you wanna do that?” Roger asked, knowing Mark’s legs hurt him too much to stand for too long. 

                “Sure,” Mark nodded and got up, stretching a little bit as he walked stiffly out of the room. 

                Roger gently lead him to the bathroom and turned the water on. Mark got himself undressed and looked at himself in the mirror, tears started to well in his eyes but he quickly pushed them away--not wanting Roger to see them.

                “I’ll warm up something for you after you get out, okay?” Roger rubbed his back and pressed light kisses to his shoulders.

                “Okay,” Mark nodded and smiled a little, trying to look positive. 

                Roger let him be and Mark got in the shower, running his hands over his bump. Mark took a shaky breath and rubbed his eyes, trying to stay calm. While he was happy to be pregnant and he was happy to be having a child, he was nervous and uncomfortable constantly--always having a rough time with whatever was going on. And the worst part was that he knew that this was hard on everyone else. He knew his attitude was making everyone else upset and he wished he could stop.

                But something just kept dragging him down.

                Mark sniffed and washed his hair, letting the water wash down over him. He took his time, despite his legs cramping, he stayed in the water for about an hour. When he got out his eyes were bright red, but he didn’t realize this as he got dressed in the clothes that Roger had set out for him. When he walked out and went to Roger, he wrapped his arms around him and held him close.

                Roger blinked in surprise, not used to how close Mark was suddenly being--in the past few weeks he’d been distant and a little nervous to be close to him. Mark sighed and nuzzled into his neck, his hands pressed against his back and held him close. After a moment, Roger wrapped his arms around Mark and hugged him tightly.

                “What’s wrong, love?” Roger asked.

                “Nothing,” Mark shook his head, sniffing a bit. “I just wanted to be close to you.”

                “Oh,” Roger nodded and played with his hair, “do you wanna see anyone today?”

                “Can we see Angel and Collins?” Mark asked, pulling back to look at Roger.

                He paused and gently smoothed his thumbs over Mark’s cheeks, “why’re your eyes red, baby?”

                Mark shrugged and looked down. “I don’t know.”

                “Were you crying?”

                “Maybe,” Mark mumbled.                

                “Why?” Roger asked, pulling him close again.

                “I just… I feel so gross when I’m this big. I don’t look like myself and I just--I don’t know. I miss wearing my binder and wearing pants that don’t have a stretchy piece of spandex in the front.” Mark pouted, sniffing. “I hate it.”

                Roger nodded a little and played with Mark’s hair, “well, you’re more than halfway done. Just four more months and it’ll be here.”

                Mark nodded and sighed, then glanced up and looked at the envelope on the fridge. “Do you wanna know what it is?”

                “I think so,” Roger nodded, “do you?”

                He thought about it for a long minute, then nodded, “yeah. I do.”

                Roger smiled and kissed Mark’s cheek, he let go and grabbed the envelope from the fridge and opened it up. He pulled the paper out and took a deep breath before he read it--and then grinned.

                “What is it?” Mark asked, biting his lip as he shuffled his feet.

                Roger handed the piece of paper over to him and kissed the side of his head.

                Mark took it and nearly teared up when he saw the answer. He dropped the paper on the counter and hugged Roger tightly.

  
  


                Another few weeks passed and at this point, Mark felt super shy about going out. Even though no one was, he felt like people were constantly staring at him. He felt bloated and nasty, despite Roger’s constant compliments. It became clear to everyone that Mark didn’t feel like himself. He needed people to constantly remind him that he looked like this for a reason, that it would all be worth it.

                “Honey, no one’s gonna notice…” Mimi mumbled softly as Mark dug through his clothing, “I couldn’t even see it.”

                “I hate these jeans,” Mark pouted, stretching the elastic part of his jeans out a bit, “I don’t want anyone seeing it.”

                “Babe--no one thinks you’re wearing regular jeans. That would be so uncomfortable.”

                “But--”

                “Mark, you look great.” Mimi rubbed his shoulders, “really. We’re gonna be late if we don’t get going right now though.”

                “Fine…” Mark mumbled softly and grabbed the biggest shirt he could find.

                None of Roger’s shirts fit him anymore, which was the worst part. He loved wearing Roger’s shirts, but now they stretched uncomfortably tight across his bump, and it was awful. Mark was stuck with maternity shirts or XL/XXL t-shirts depending on the brand. And he hated wearing both. The worst issue for Mark was that his chest had grown, and was now more pronounce. Which meant almost every guy in New York looked at him. And of course, some would hit on him. 

                Which hadn’t happened around Roger yet. And Mark was thankful for that.

                But that wouldn’t last long, at least, Mark didn’t think it would. He and Mimi were on their way to the Live Cafe, where they’d meet Roger and everyone else.  

                The two got to the restaurant fairly quickly and got a table. Mark barely fit in the booth anymore, and it was a clear blow to his self esteem. Mimi frowned and scooted in next to him, wrapping her arms around him tightly.

                “You’re so handsome,” she smiled and kissed his cheek, “I promise.”

                “I don’t feel very handsome,” Mark muttered, his hands falling to his bump.

                “Can I get you two anything?” The waitress came up to them, pausing when she saw how upset they looked. “Oh--is this a bad time? I’m sorry, I just--”

                “No, no, it’s okay,” Mimi smiled reassuringly. “Mark here just… He doesn’t seem to think he’s handsome lately.” She looked at the waitress, silently asking her for help. “You see, he’s pregnant and while he’s excited for the baby, he’s nervous that no one thinks he’s handsome enough.”

                Mark blushed lightly, but didn’t deny it. Instead he just nodded and played with his hands.

                “May I?” She asked, motioning to sit next to Mark.

                Mimi nodded and scooted out, letting her scoot in. “Well, Mark, I see you in here a lot. And I mean, I’ve never seen anyone go through tea like you do. We honestly order tea just for you cause we know which one is your favorite. But you mean a lot to us here, you’ve been coming in for about a year and you’re a regular. Every time I see you I think ‘wow, that’s one handsome man right there’.” She smiled, biting her lip.

                “Really?” Mark asked, looking up at her with big eyes.

                “Mhm,” she nodded, “I’m always excited when you come in too cause I know I’ll get to see you writing your script or you’ll chat it up with someone and it’s the sweetest thing in the world.” 

                Mark blushed a little and sighed softly, “thank you.”

                “Are you meeting someone here today?” She smiled, rubbing his shoulder.

                “My boyfriend,” Mark nodded, “and a few friends.”

                “Sounds good,” she nodded, “just don’t push the tables together, okay?”

                “Okay,” Mark laughed lightly and nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow--I'm sorry I haven't updated in forever. I just moved down to Arizona. Like--a week ago. We drove down from Wisconsin and I spent all of last week going on dates with this amazing person and yeah, I just uh--I've been really busy. I'll obviously keep writing as much as possible, but I've got a job interview coming up so it's not gonna be updated as often, though I'll write as often as I can!


	44. Chapter 44

                More weeks passed and Mark found himself becoming increasingly uncomfortable. Roger tried his best to help him feel better, but there wasn’t much that he could do. The two had gone grocery shopping, and Mark was frustrated with it. Some things sounded great, but other things made him want to throw up. He nearly lost it when they walked by the deli. 

                Thankfully they were done quick, though, because all Mark wanted to do was curl up in bed. As they started up the stairs, Mark lost his breath and closed his eyes, trying to get himself able to go up the stairs. After a few moments, he managed to get to the first landing, and he sighed, setting the bags he was carrying down (Roger took the heavy ones, of course). Mark took deep breaths as he sighed, his legs felt like they had been stuck with needles--the pain shooting up and down his thighs and calves. 

                “You okay?” Roger asked, glancing down at Mark.

                “Yeah--my just--my legs hurt.” Mark shook his head and sighed shakily, biting his lip.

                “Oh..” Roger bit his lip, then went back down to where Mark was and took his bags, “stay here, okay? I’ll go put these upstairs and I’ll come back and help you up.”

                “Okay,” Mark nodded and squeezed his legs with his hands, attempting to massage them as best as he could.

                A few moments later, Roger came back down and wrapped his arm under Mark’s armpits, and helped him up to their apartment.

                “I hate living so high up,” Mark pouted, “it’s awful.”

                “I know,” Roger nodded, “but it’s safer.”

                “We should get a house,” Mark huffed.

                “Maybe,” Roger shrugged a bit as he helped Mark upstairs.

                “Well, I mean, once we have the baby, then…” Mark mumbled, shrugging, “it’ll be hard to carry the carrier and stroller up and down the stairs.”

                Roger grew quiet, thinking about what Mark had said. After a moment or two, he nodded and bit his lip, “you’ve got a point there.”

                Once the door was open, the two went in and started to put away groceries. 

                “Do you… Do you think we’re moving too fast?” Mark asked, glancing over at Roger.

                “Well…” Roger considered it, thinking for a few moments, “I think we have to.” He finally decided. “We were kind of handed the shit, Mark,” he shrugged, “we had to roll with the punches and I mean… I can’t imagine a life without you.”

                Mark nodded for a moment, then pressed a hand against his belly, “I don’t like how you think about that.”

                Roger blinked in surprise and looked over at Mark, “what do you mean?”

                “I--I dragged you down, Rog,” he spoke softly, “it’s my fault this is going on. It’s--it’s not happening to you, it’s… It’s happening to me.” Mark breathed out and held it, his eyes fluttering shut. When they opened, tears leaked out of the sides, “I didn’t mean any of  _ this,  _ Roger. I meant  _ us. _ Are  _ we _ moving too fast?”

                He hadn’t thought of that.

                None of this was happening to Roger. In reality, Roger could leave Mark at any moment and he wouldn’t have to deal with any of this. That wasn’t his baby inside of Mark, this was technically an apartment that they had paid off together, one that Mark could easily support by himself (with some help from family, maybe, but even then). Roger hadn’t thought that Mark meant them. And he hated that his instant response was about the baby. 

                No, Roger hadn’t considered that they were moving too fast at all, if anything Roger felt like they should be doing things sooner--get them done quicker. But he understood Mark’s hesitations. He knew why Mark didn’t want to wedding plan right now or elope or hadn’t brought up the fact that they should live somewhere else. This was all new. Mark was just only a kid, and even though Roger was only older by a few years--he suddenly understood the hesitation. 

                Roger dropped what was in his hands and hugged Mark, gently pressing him so his head was against his shoulder. He didn’t know what to do. But he knew he needed to fix it. Mark resisted at first, not pushing away exactly but not returning the favor. But after a moment or two, Mark hugged him tightly, sniffing quietly.

                “I’m just scared, Roger.” He whispered.

                “I know baby,” he spoke shakily, “I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, okay, I know I've been gone for a while. Some things just came up and shit got hard and I couldn't update for forever. But! I've got a lot of new ideas coming at you, some more surprises, etc, etc, etc. 
> 
> I don't know if it'll be consistent uploads, but I'm gonna try to upload at least once a week. I don't know if it'll be more or less right now, but I'll try to keep uploads as consistent and compact as possible (meaning hopefully multiple chapters per upload). I know I left on a kind of cliffhanger in the middle of a difficult time, but I'm trying to get my writing thing back and hopefully, hopefully, things work out well.
> 
> Please leave comments for what you'd like to see, ideas you have, anything like that. I really enjoy writing in things that you guys want to see, so let me know! I'm open to ideas.
> 
> Thank you so much!


	45. Chapter 45

“Oof,” Mark mumbled softly, taking deep breaths.  
“Huh?” Roger looked over at him, his eyes full of worry as he watched Mark clutch his belly.  
“Just… Uncomfortable,” he nodded and sighed softly, closing his eyes.  
Roger got up and went over to where Mark was sitting. Ever since their talk a few weeks ago, things had been rough. He had realized where Mark’s anxiety was coming from, and how difficult things were for him in his mind. It didn’t help that Mark was incredibly tired as of late, and he didn’t want to be touched or spoken to or even acknowledged. Everything pissed him off, and Roger was tip-toeing around him to keep him happy.  
Hesitantly, Roger reached over and gently rubbed Mark’s shoulder. He could feel how tense he was and it only made him feel worse. Mark, though he didn’t want to be interacted with, leaned into Roger’s touch, knowing that he was trying his hardest to help him feel better.   
“Is there anything I can do to help you?” Roger asked, kissing the top of his head.  
“I don’t know,” Mark shrugged, sighing, “nothing seems good right now.”  
Roger thought for a moment, then bit his lip and decided on something, “hold on.”  
Pressing one more kiss to Mark’s head, Roger went to their bathroom and started to fill the tub with water. If there was one thing that would help Mark relax, it was probably this. Back in the living room, Mark smiled a bit and sighed, getting up to waddle into the bathroom.   
“Let’s get you in the bath and then we’ll do something you wanna do, okay?” Roger asked, gently resting his hand against Mark’s back.  
Mark nodded and pulled his clothes off--taking a deep sigh of satisfaction when he pulled off his bra.  
Roger picked up his dirty clothes and went and put them in their room, then came back and helped Mark into the tub.  
Visibly relaxed, Mark laid down in the water and sighed softly, his eyes closed as he ran his hands over his bump. Roger sat next to the tub, watching him warm up; out of the blue, he saw a little hand press against Mark’s side, and he grinned like he’d just won the lottery.  
“What?” Mark laughed lightly, his hand going to where Roger’s eyes were.  
“A very little hand just pressed right there,” Roger moved Mark’s hand to his side and bit his lip.  
Mark blushed lightly and smiled, “I love you.”  
“I love you too,” Roger nodded and squeezed Mark’s hand. “Do you want anything?”  
“Just you,” Mark shook his head, “right now all I need is you.”  
Roger grinned again and nodded, “I can do that.”  
Mark stayed in the tub for quite some time--enough times that they filled the tub twice with warm water after Mark originally got in. The two sat in silence for some time until Mark just started talking--about nothing in particular, mostly about how he’d been fixing his camera as of late and how glad he was to use it now that it was working better. He mentioned that he wanted to go see his dad that weekend, and was hoping to spend some time with his sisters while he was there.  
As Mark spoke, Roger thought of something, and after about thirty minutes, he asked.  
“So--we need to have a baby shower,” Roger nodded, “do you want us to have a big thing for it or--I mean, just with how you’ve been feeling lately I figured you might just want to be left alone, but--”  
“Oh.” Mark blinked, then looked at his hands, “no, no, we should have a party.” He nodded, “yeah, um--I’ll uh, I’ll talk to my sister about it.”  
“Okay,” Roger smiled a little, and grabbed a towel, “c’mon, let’s get you something to eat.”  
Mark nodded and got up, stretching a bit as he wrapped himself in the towel that Roger offered him.

  
A few days later, they were at Mark’s dad’s house, sitting and chatting with Cindy. Who had a million ideas--she was firing them all out and Roger was trying to follow as best as he could.  
It was clearly very stressful on Mark, who had to get up about halfway through her ideas to pace around the room. His eyes were glossy by the time she had finished party game ideas, and Roger gestured for him to go take a minute. Mark nodded and rushed off to the bathroom, taking shaky breaths as he walked.  
“I think we just need to make this as least stressful as possible,” Roger pointed out, “Mark can’t really handle much right now without getting upset, so… How about you and I just plan this?” Roger asked, “and maybe it won’t be games and stuff, how about just a nice picnic or something? I think he just kinda needs a break before everything gets really--”  
“Roger?” Mark asked, standing in the doorway to the hallway.   
“Yeah?” Roger looked over at him, his eyebrows furrowing together in confusion as he saw Mark clutching his bump.  
“I’m bleeding.” He spoke softly.


	46. Chapter 46

                A few hours later, the two came home from their trip to the ER. 

                Mark was fine--everything was okay, as long as Mark wasn’t in pain, the doctor said bleeding was normal. At least, the amount he was bleeding was fine. Any more than that and there could be trouble, but he was supposed to call his regular doctor in the morning and schedule an appointment as soon as possible. Mark was absolutely exhausted, and went to bed right away. 

                Roger stayed up for a bit, and finally decided that he needed to take a break. He got up and left the apartment, went and got a pack of cigarettes and started to walk around the neighborhood, going through the pack fairly quickly. As he walked, Roger noticed Benny was driving by. He waved, trying to be friendly, though he was sure it came off some other way. But it was enough to make Benny park and get out.

                “Roger!” He smiled a bit and came over, “how’re you? How’s Mark?”

                “Stressed.” Roger nodded, “he was bleeding earlier and we panicked and… I don’t know, we went to the ER and they told us he’s okay but that we gotta watch his stress level.”

                Benny nodded and bit his lip, “okay, but uh--can I point something out?”

                “Yeah,” Roger nodded and took a drag of his cigarette.

                “If you’re taking care of Mark’s stress, who’s taking care of yours?”

                Roger blinked and thought about it--suddenly feeling the weight he’d been carrying for weeks. “Shit. You’re right.”

                Benny bit his lip, and waved him up, “c’mon, let’s go to the bar.”

                Roger didn’t feel like fighting, so he got up and followed Benny down the street. The two sat down at a small table, Benny ordered them food and drinks. 

                “When’d you pick smoking back up?” Benny asked, sipping his beer.

                “Tonight,” Roger confessed, “I don’t do it much anymore.”

                “Good,” he nodded slowly, “you don’t want that shit in the apartment.”

                “I don’t want Mark or the baby to breathe it in,” he shrugged, “it’s not worth it.”

                “Rog--you know I try not to harp on your ass anymore.” Benny sighed, “maybe you need a vacation before this baby comes. Let us take care of Mark, let you go out for a bit and just… Rewind.”

                “Who has the money for that kind of thing?” Roger asked, shaking his head, “no, no, I just need to shower and eat something.”

                “Well, I won’t argue with that,” Benny nudged Roger in the ribs. “But c’mon. We’ll go upstate for a few days. We’ll leave Mark with Mimi, Angel, and Collins and take care of you.”

                Roger bit his lip and thought about it, “can I talk to Mark first? I don’t--I can’t leave him like this with no notice.”

                “You kidding? I wouldn’t let you leave without talking to your man,” Benny shook his head, sitting back in his seat. “Mark may be stressed but he’s crazy right now with hormones--I don’t need him to bite my ass for taking you away.”

                Roger cracked a smile and shook his head, “he’s not too bad, he got mad at the self scanner yesterday and shouted his name very loudly and told him that he was better than the scanner--but otherwise he’s just… Very sad.”

                “Let someone else take care of him for a bit. Maybe a trip to his family’s place would do him some good.”

                “It’s worth a try,” Roger shrugged.

 

               A few hours later, Roger crawled into bed next to Mark, who woke up and gently carded his fingers through Roger’s hair.

                “Where’d you go?” He asked, smelling the beer on his breath.

                “Out with Benny,” Roger mumbled softly, “he offered to take me on vacation.”

                Mark thought about it for a moment, then nodded, “oh.”

                “Just so we both have some time before the baby comes,” Roger nodded and opened his eyes, watching Mark closely. “So we can be ready.”

                It dawned on Mark that Roger had probably been taking in all of this stress and had become a sponge that was just soaked to the core. And Mark knew that even if he was stressed, that he needed to give Roger time to relax as well.

                “Go on the trip,” Mark nodded, biting his lip, “okay?”

                “No…” Roger mumbled, tearing his shirt off.

                “Yes,” Mark pressed, “we’ll talk about it in the morning, but you’re going. You need to relax too.”

                “I can’t relax without you,” Roger shook his head and laid back down, getting cuddly in the blankets.

                Mark huffed, and was going to argue more, but he noticed that a soft snore was coming from Roger now, and he decided that he would do whatever it took to help Roger relax.


	47. Chapter 47

                “I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Roger sighed as he looked out the window, shaking his head. 

                “C’mon, you need this. You know it.” Benny shook his head, “Mark’s perfectly fine with Mimi and Joanne.”

                “I know,” he bit his lip, “I’m just worried.”

                “Mark’s still got four weeks before his due date. Nothing’s gonna happen.” Benny reassured him, “you can call Mark when we get to the cabin.”

                “Okay,” he nodded, rubbing his legs a bit. “Okay.”

                About an hour later, they arrived at the cabin. The two got out and grabbed their things, then went inside. 

                “You wanna call him?” Benny asked, noticing that Roger was antsy.

                “Yeah,” Roger nodded, “but… I kinda just…” He sat down and sighed, putting his head in his hands. “But I kinda just want to sleep.”

                “Then sleep,” Benny shrugged, “you can always text Mark later tonight.”

                “But I’m just--I’m worried about him.” Roger shrugged, “I should call.”

                “Hey--remember why we’re on this trip in the first place, okay?” He shook his head, “we’re here so you can calm down and relax.” 

                “I know,” he sighed and got up, grabbing his pack of cigarettes, “where’s the beer?”

                “Here,” Benny handed one over and smiled a bit, “go on and relax, man.”

                Roger went out on the patio and lit his cigarette, taking long, slow drags from it. After a moment or two, he opened his beer and took a sip. 

                The night was long, but good. The two men stayed up until about three in the morning, just talking about what was going on with them. Benny was having issues with Allison, Roger mostly listened--but talked a bit when Benny told him to. The next morning, Roger woke up before Benny. He ate some cereal and sat on the patio again, staring out into the forest. 

                He sat there for a bit, taking in the fresh air and sunlight. He sighed softly and closed his eyes, finally opening them when he heard the patio door open.

                “You okay?” Benny asked, leaning against the door frame.

                “Yeah,” Roger nodded and smiled a bit, “just thinking.”

                “About?” He pressed, walking over to sit next to him.

                “Being a father,” Roger shrugged, “I’m just… worried.”

                “Cause of what your dad was like?” Benny guessed.

                “Yeah,” Roger confessed, “I just… I don’t know.”

                “That’s okay,” Benny patted his leg, “you don’t have to know.”

                “I’m just worried about Mark, I guess,” he shrugged again, “I don’t know how everything’s gonna go once the baby’s born, y’know? Is he gonna be able to feel masculine again or is he always gonna feel somewhat female? Because of this baby?”

                “I don’t know,” Benny answered, “but I know Mark, he’s not gonna suddenly change because of this.”

                “I don’t know about that, though,” Roger bit his lip, “Mark’s been so out of sorts lately, I’m just worried he won’t feel like himself.”

                “Roger,” Benny caught his attention, “Mark’s going through a lot right now. Emotionally, mentally, physically--a lot is happening. And he’s dealing with his own body issues--again, emotionally, mentally, and physically. This is a lot for him. He probably doesn’t know how he’s gonna feel after this either. And that’s scary, y’know? His body is doing a ton of stuff that neither of you ever planned on. You’re both under a ton of stress and… Just… Don’t worry about it, okay? He’s gonna be okay. Both of you are gonna be okay.”

                Roger nodded a bit and grabbed a cigarette, “you’ve got a point.”

                “Lay off the smoking,” Benny frowned.

                “I’m trying.” Roger shook his head, “trust me.”

                Benny sighed softly and got up, “I’ll be inside. Come in whenever you’re ready.”

                He got up and left, leaving Roger alone. After several minutes, his phone started to ring, and he picked it up right away.

                “Hello?”

                “Roger?” Mark asked, a smile to his voice, “how’re you, baby?”

                “I’m good,” Roger smiled too, “how’re you?”

                “I’m okay, we’ve been building furniture.” Mark nodded, “we’ve got the crib built, and Joanne and Maureen are working on the changing table.”

                In the background, Roger could hear Maureen and Joanne bickering.

                “Hopefully they don’t bite each other’s heads off,” Roger chuckled softly.

                “They might,” Mark laughed, “I was just calling to make sure you made it up okay. You didn’t call last night so I was worried.”

                “Oh--yeah, I’m sorry, babe. We got up here and I drank a beer and fell asleep pretty quickly.” Roger rubbed the back of his neck, sighing a little, “I’m sorry.”

                “No, no, you’re okay,” Mark shook his head, “you’re okay, I promise. I just wanted to make sure you were safe.”

                “Thank you,” he smiled, “I’m safe. Benny and I have just been talking a lot. How’s the baby?”

                “Ready to come out,” Mark laughed again, “I keep feeling it move around.”

                “Really?” Roger asked, “man--I wish I was there to feel it.”

                “It’s pushing on my bladder worse than ever,” Mark shook his head, “I feel like they’re ready to crawl out already.”

                “Just a few more weeks, baby,” Roger smiled, “I promise. And then our little family will be a little bigger.”

                “I know,” Mark smiled, “call me later, okay? Have fun.”

                “I will,” Roger nodded, “I love you.”

                “I love you too, I’ll talk to you later.” Mark bit his lip. “Stay safe.”

                “You too, talk to you later.” Roger said, then hung up. 

  
  


                A few days later and Roger and Benny were packing up to head home. As they were loading the car up, Roger’s phone started to ring.

                “Hello?” He asked, a bit confused since it was around five in the morning (they were wanting to avoid rush hour traffic).

                “Roger--hey,” it was Mimi, “are you guys on your way yet?”

                “Just about to be, why?” He asked, “is everything okay?”

                “Um, yeah--just--well, Mark’s water broke.” She nodded, “we’re on our way to the hospital, everything’s okay--we’re just--well, he’s scared. So I’m gonna give you to him, okay? But--please,  _ please _ , get going as soon as possible.”

                Roger stood still, his eyes wide as he processed what she just said, “oh--um--yeah, okay, yeah.”

                “Okay, here you go,” Mimi sighed a bit and handed the phone to Mark.

                “Hi,” Mark hiccupped, sniffling a bit.

                “Hey--hey, you’re okay,” Roger started to hush, “I promise. You’re alright. We’re on our way--we’ll be there in like--two-ish hours.”

                Benny looked at Roger, who signaled for them to get into the car.

                It took a moment for him to understand, but Benny quickly put the rest of the bags in the car and got in as Roger did too.

                “Okay. Drive--Drive safe. Please, okay? I just--I need you here and I need you safe.” Mark’s voice wavered.

                “Okay, I will.” Roger nodded, “just get to the hospital and I’ll be there so soon, baby. I promise.”

                “Okay,” Mark nodded, “I love you.”

                “I love you too.”


	48. Chapter 48

                “Where is he?” Mark asked, his eyes watering as he sat back on the hospital bed, “please, please,  _ please _ tell me he’s almost here.”

                Mimi looked at Maureen and Joanne hesitantly, biting her lip, “no, honey, he’s still over an hour and a half away.”

                “No,” he cried softly, shaking his head, “no, no, no! He has to be here!”

                “Honey,” Joanne went over and gently took Mark’s hand, which was balled into a fist. “Just take deep breaths, okay?”

                Mark shook his head and sniffed, “I--but--it  _ hurts. _ ”

                “I know, Mark,” she nodded, “but you can do this. I promise.”

                He closed his eyes and hiccupped, squeezing her hand pretty hard, “I need him.”

                “He’s coming, I promise. Do you wanna call him?” She asked, “would that help?”

                Mark shook his head and rubbed his eyes, “no--I don’t know--I just… I need something to distract me.”

                Maureen bit her lip and looked around the room, finally settling on a notepad they’d brought along, “hold on.” She rushed out of the room and took a pen from the nurse’s station. She came back in and handed it to Mark, along with the notepad.

                Mimi caught on right away, “write a letter to the baby.” She smiled a little, “maybe it’ll help.”

                He nodded and tried to hold onto the pen without shaking too much.

                As Mark started to write--to be fair, most of it was mostly scribbles--after a few moments, he shook his head and closed his eyes, setting the pen down. While his contractions were close, it was mostly the anxiety between them that killed him. 

                “Names. I need--we need to think of names.” Mark nodded.

                “Oh--okay, okay,” Joanne nodded and grabbed the notepad, tearing the first sheet off. “Where are we starting?”

                “Um--” he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to think, “Rosa.” Mark nodded, “Rosa. Start with Rosa.”

                “It’s a girl?” Mimi looked at him with big eyes, “you’re having a girl?”

                Mark nodded and wiped a tear away as a contraction hit, “y--” He took deep breaths and shook his head, unable to speak.

                Mimi took his other hand and let him squeeze, pressing a light kiss to his knuckles.

                Once it passed, Mark flopped back and took a deep breath, “yeah--it’s a girl.”

                All three women grinned and looked between each other.

                “Um--Roger and I liked Winona, but… I don’t know how I feel about it anymore.” He shook his head, “uh--Ella.”

                “Okay, Rosa, Ella, Winona,” Joanne listed off as she wrote them down.

                “Hold on,” Mark held his hand up as he took a few deep breaths, “oh god I need to push.”

                “Woah--no, don’t do it, Mark,” Maureen came over and sat next to his legs on the bed, “no, no--you’re gonna tire yourself out, honey.”

                Mark shook his head, “I need to!”

                “Can we get a doctor?” Joanne called out into the hallway, “or a nurse or something?”

                A moment later, a nurse came in, smiling a bit as she looked between the women, “what’s going on?”

                “He feels like he needs to push.” Mimi explained quickly, trying to help Mark as much as she could.

                “Oh, sweetie--I know,” she nodded, “I’ll get the doctor to check how dilated you are, but please wait to push, okay? It’s just gonna make it harder to push later.”

                Mark’s eyes were closed, but he nodded anyways, trying to keep himself from crying. His anxiety only grew by the minute, but he couldn’t figure out how to express it.

                The nurse left, and a few moments later Mark’s doctor came in and checked how far Mark was.

                “You’re almost there,” she reassured him, “just two more centimeters, okay?”

                Mark nodded and took a few deep breaths, then looked at Mimi, “I need to talk to Roger.”

                Mimi nodded and quickly grabbed her phone, she called Roger and handed the phone over once he answered.

                “Hey,” Mark said softly, trying to hold back any cries.

                “Hey baby,” Roger bit his lip, “we’re getting really good traffic, so we’re almost there, I promise, love.”

                “Okay,” he nodded and sniffed, “please get here soon. I just--I can’t do this without you.”

                “Yes you can,” Roger shook his head, “you can do this with or without me, I know you don’t feel that way but I promise you,  _ you can _ .”

                “But--”

                “No buts,” he cut Mark off, “I need you to take a few deep breaths and listen, can you do that?”

                After a moment, Mark nodded. “Yeah.”

                “All this time, you’ve been doing great, Mark.” Roger reassured him, “you’ve gone through so much in the past year--you’re gonna come out of this fine,” he bit his lip, “you can do this, okay? I’m gonna try to get there as fast as possible, but you’ve gotta listen--you can do this. Got that?”

                “Mhm,” Mark nodded, “but--please get here soon.”

                “I’m going as fast as I can, love,” he smiled a little, “I’ll be there so soon. Just keep our baby girl safe until then, okay?”

                “Okay,” Mark bit his lip, “just--stay safe. Drive safe. Don’t do anything crazy.”

                “Benny’s driving,” Roger laughed softly, “we’re safer than ever, I promise.”

                “I love you,” he sniffed.

                “I love you too.”

  
  


                Only thirty minutes passed before the doctor came back to check on Mark, which is when several other nurses came in and ushered the three women out.

                “No--No, I need one of them,” Mark shook his head, starting to cry, “I need someone.”

                “Mark?” His dad, Daniel suddenly popped in the doorway, “where’s Roger?”

                “He’s not here yet, dad,” tears rolled down his cheeks. “Can--Can my dad stay?”

                “Yes,” one of the nurses nodded, “as long as he stays up by your head.”

                Daniel nodded and went right next to Mark, taking his hand tightly.

                “You can do it, Mark,” he reassured him, smiling tightly as worry washed over his face.

                The ladies were pushed out to the waiting room, where they sat and played with their hands.

  
  


                “Okay honey, you ready to push?” The doctor asked, looking up at Mark briefly.

                “Yeah,” Mark took deep breaths, staring up at the ceiling.

                “Okay, on three, alright? One… Two… Three!” She counted down.

                On three, Mark sat up a bit and pushed, squeezing his dad’s hand tightly.

                After a moment or two, the doctor looked up at Mark, “relax--take a deep breath, honey, you’re doing great.”

                Mark nodded and sniffed, his eyesight getting blurry with tears. 

                It felt only like seconds before the doctor told him to push again--and that’s how it went, for about an hour. Finally, Mark fell back on his bed and started to sob.

                “I can’t,” he cried, “I can’t do this.”

  
  


                Roger ran out of the elevator and looked around, right away, Maureen jumped up.

                “Room 409! Get your ass in there, Davis!” She pointed down the hall.

                He nodded a little and sprinted down the hall, basically barging into the room, “I’m here! I’m here!”

                Mark was a bit too preoccupied as he curled into his dad, gripping his arm and hand tightly.

                “Oh shit,” Roger shook his head and quickly went over to them, “baby--I’m here, it’s okay, it’s okay.”

                It took a moment, but Mark finally pulled away from his dad and grabbed Roger’s hand, squeezing it as tight as possible.

                “I can’t do it, Rog,” he breathed heavily, “please don’t make me.”

                “Baby.” Roger looked at him with big eyes, “you can do this. I swear.” He nodded and squeezed Mark’s hand back, “just focus on our little girl, okay? Just--just a few more pushes and we’ll meet her, okay? Just a few more, baby, that’s all I’m asking.”

                Mark took a deep breath and held it for a moment, which made the oxygen monitor start beeping wildly. But once he let go and started breathing again, it stopped. He nodded.

                “Okay.” Mark nodded and looked at the doctor.

                “Okay?”

                “Okay.” He agreed.

                Still, it took another hour before they finally heard the cry. Mark started hyperventilating once he heard her cry, mostly because he suddenly felt a relief, while everything still hurt a bit, he felt relieved hearing her. Right away they set her on Mark’s chest and he became calm. He looked down at her and smiled a little, sniffling as he gently held her head.

                “Oh wow,” he breathed, smiling more the more he looked at her.

                “Oh wow,” Roger agreed, looking between the two.

                A moment later, they took her away and cleaned her off, the doctor helped Mark with the afterbirth and everything, but before anyone knew it, Mark was laying down, in fresh bedding and happily holding his baby.

                Roger sat next to him, looking down at the little one in Mark’s arms.

                “I want to name her Bee.” Mark bit his lip, smoothing his thumb across her cheek.

                “Bee? Like--just the letter or the bug?” Roger asked, smiling a bit.

                “Like the bug,” Mark nodded, “she looks like a Bee, right?”

                “Yeah,” Roger smiled, nodding in agreement, “she’s beautiful, baby.”

                “I can’t believe she’s here.” He looked at Roger, “I mean, we had a few more weeks but…”

                “She was ready to come out,” Roger shrugged, laughing softly, “she wanted to make her entrance.”

                “I guess so.”

  
  


                A few hours later, Mimi came back in with a large bag and flowers.

                “Hey,” She smiled, peeking into the room, “we’re all coming in shifts--we don’t want to overwhelm you.”

                “Hi,” Mark smiled and waved a bit, laying back in his bed--tired as hell.

                Roger held Bee in his arms, lightly patting her butt, “what’d you bring?”

                “Just some shower stuff for Mark, and some food for you. Drinks for everyone.” She shrugged, “I know you have water, but there was a soda machine downstairs, so…”

                “Thank you,” Mark laughed softly, rubbing his eyes, “I’m sorry that I’m not more entertaining.”

                “Don’t worry, honey,” she smiled and set the bag and flowers down. “And who do we have here?”

                “Bee,” Roger smiled, looking down at her, “our baby Bee.”


	49. Chapter 49

                The first week of having Bee home was okay. Mark was having a hard time with it though, his heart felt heavy every time he left Bee, even if it was just in her crib to sleep. He was terrified that something would happen to her, even though she was perfectly fine. It was almost two weeks since they had gotten home and Mark had barely slept. Let alone showered, eaten, or drank anything. He basically did only the very basic things that he needed to do to live.

                One morning, Mark was sitting on the couch, holding Bee--feeding her. He blinked slowly, his head tipping back as his arms grew weak. Thankfully his legs were on the couch as well, so when he finally relaxed and let go--his eyes fluttering shut--Bee gently moved down just a little. She started to wiggle around and started crying.

                Roger had been washing dishes in the kitchen, and after several minutes of hearing Bee cry, he put down what he was doing at went to the couch--figuring Mark was still awake and that he would’ve fixed whatever was making Bee cry. He blinked in surprise when he saw him sleeping with Bee in his arms. Quickly, he picked Bee up and held her close. Mark was out cold--not noticing the missing weight. Roger went and got a bottle from the fridge and warmed it up. Thankfully, whenever Mark wasn’t busy watching over Bee, he was pumping or attempting to do some form of housework.

                Which the latter bothered Roger, but of course, Mark huffed whenever Roger told him to go sit down and relax. But of course, Mark continued to clean whenever he could. While the bottle heated up, Roger pulled a blanket up over Mark, deciding he should let him be. Taking the bottle, Roger went into the nursery and sat in the rocking chair that David had gotten them. He fed her and burped her, putting her in her bouncer seat once she was done. He got up and started putting away clothes and towels, washing the dishes and--very quickly--took out the trash.

                Several hours later, Mark sat up--his eyes wide. His breathing was heavy and his hair askew. Roger looked up from his guitar--which he’d been playing quietly for Bee for the past half hour. 

                “What time is it?” Mark asked, looking around--noting that it was dark outside now.

                “Eight,” Roger nodded and set his guitar down, smiling a little. “How’d you sleep, love?”

                “Oh--shit--oh shit--I um…” Mark put his head in his hands, thinking for a moment. “Fuck--how’s Bee? Is she okay? Did I drop her?”

                “No, no, no,” Roger shook his head, “she just moved down your chest a bit. She’s fed, changed, and getting tired.”

                “Oh… Okay…” He bit his lip and looked at Bee, who indeed, was blinking very slowly and had her arms close to her chest as she held onto her onesie. “Hi baby,” he smiled, biting his lip, “let’s put you to bed.”

                Roger got up and carefully picked her up.

                Mark got up and played with his hands, following close behind as they walked into her nursery and set Bee down in her crib. She yawned and stretched, making Mark smile as he held onto the side of the crib.

                “C’mon,” Roger spoke quietly as he gently guided Mark out of the nursery. 

                Mark followed reluctantly, playing with his hands as he took deep breaths, “um--is there any laundry that needs to be done? Or--or folded?”

                “No,” Roger shook his head, “I’m gonna make you some dinner and we’re gonna watch some TV, okay? Then shower and go to bed.”

                He shook his head and ran his hands through his too long hair. Roger gently rubbed his back and bit his lip.

                “C’mon,” leading Mark into his studio, Roger sat him down on the stool and cut his hair again--taking his time and making sure to press kisses to the back of Mark’s neck and shoulders. By the end, Mark looked at himself in a piece of mirror that Roger had painted flowers on and smiled a little--finally feeling like himself for the first time in a while. 

                Seeing himself like that made Mark remember that while he needed to take care of Bee, he also needed to take care of himself. So, while Roger made dinner, Mark went and showered for almost an entire hour. Once he came out, he went and checked on Bee—just out of habit. She was sound asleep, curled up nice and tight. After watching her for a moment, Mark went back out to Roger and hugged him, nuzzling into his neck.

                “Feel better?” Roger asked, smiling a bit as he played with Mark’s damp hair.

                “Yeah,” he smiled and bit his lip, “what’d you make?”

                “A sandwich,” he kissed Mark’s forehead and nudged the plate towards Mark, “I can get you chips if you want.”

                “Sure,” Mark nodded and took the sandwich. He hesitated a moment, then bit into it, taking a deep breath as he savoured the flavor. Noticing that for the first time in a long time, he actually felt like he could taste it and enjoy it. 

                “You okay?” Roger asked, placing his hand on Mark’s shoulder.

                He nodded and opened his eyes, looking up at Roger, “I just… I kinda just realized that I finally feel like myself again.” Mark set the sandwich down and played with his hands, “after nine months of having to just… Let my body do its thing, I finally feel like I’m back to where I used to be.”

                Roger nodded, smiling a little as he bit his lip, “you went through a lot. You’re back to where you need to be.” He gently pulled Mark into a hug, “I’m really proud of you, Mark.”

                Mark rested his head on Roger’s chest and sighed softly, “it was hard but… It was worth it, y’know? We’ve got Bee now and she’s perfect.” 

                “Y’know… Maybe we need to ask some people for help with her.” Roger played with Mark’s hair.

                He was trying to keep Mark calm, but right away, Mark stepped back, his eyes wide as he shook his head, “no--no, she’s--no…”

                “No, no,” Roger carefully took Mark’s hands, “baby. It’s not because you’re not doing a great job. You’re a wonderful dad--amazing.” He smiled, “you’re doing so good, but… We both need sleep. Right? We can ask your sister to come over or--or Angel and Collins to watch her for a few hours while we sleep. Go out and maybe go grocery shopping. Y’know?” He gently pulled Mark back towards him.

                Mark thought a little bit and bit his lip, nodding as he kissed Roger’s cheeks, “okay. Okay. Yeah--let’s um… I’ll call my sister and see if she can come over tomorrow.”

                “Sounds good, baby,” Roger smiled, “why don’t you finish eating and then we’ll watch something, okay?”

                “Okay,” Mark nuzzled into his shoulder, and stayed there for a moment before he took a deep breath and then went back and finished eating. 

                The rest of the night went by smoothly, and Mark ended up falling asleep after a few hours. Roger picked him up and carried him into their room, tucking him in and making sure the door was closed so no light or sound could really come through.

                Roger stayed up and took care of Bee whenever she woke up, which thankfully wasn’t too much. He stayed up most of the night doing little things that needed to be taken care of, mostly organizing things so life could be easier on Mark.

                Finally, Roger got into bed and pulled Mark onto his chest, smiling tiredly as he drifted off to sleep.


End file.
